


You can’t hide that look in your eye, so take your broken wings and learn to fly

by SuperBadWolfin221B, Translate_Server_Error



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Death, Fluff, Ghost!Lock, Happy Ending, Haunting, Inexperienced Sherlock, Loss of Virginity, Love, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, Murder, PTSD, Revenge, Ritual, Sherlock is dead (at first), Smut, Suicide Attempt, Top John, a bit of a casefic, a little bit angst, alternative universe, analsex, description of murder, no necrophilism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-04 19:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10997382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperBadWolfin221B/pseuds/SuperBadWolfin221B, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Translate_Server_Error/pseuds/Translate_Server_Error
Summary: “No, you don’t understand. I don’t just imagine this stuff! Every night I wake up because of the loud noises and they are definitely not just in my head! And right before you came I saw a man in my bathroom! He was really there!”He was getting angry now but he couldn’t stop himself.“I am not crazy!”Francesca just frowned and made a few notes. After a few moments of silence she looked up and sighed.“Look John, here’s no one beside you and me. You told me that you had a lot of nightmares and sometimes they can linger after we woke up. Furthermore you had a really eventful time and you have a stressful job and not a lot of sleep. So it’s perfectly normal that you start to hallucinate.”John just stared at her clenching his fists.“I’m going to give you a prescription for some sleeping pills. That will help you. I promise.”He took a deep breath and nodded defeated.____________________________________________When John Watson came back from Afghanistan he would have never expected to fall in love or meet a ghost. Much less both.





	1. Home sweet home

**Author's Note:**

> As always- english isn't my first language so please have mercy^^ And this is no WIP ;) It's finished but it needs time to be edited- so be patient ;)  
> Please enjoy :)

He felt confident. Now everything would be fine.

 Mycroft would finally believe him. Mycroft would maybe even finally realise that he wasn’t a child anymore and that he was able to take care of himself.  

Maybe he could finally live in a flat on his own and prove that he wasn’t just an addict anymore away from his annoying brother.  

He closed the door behind him and hung his coat and scarf at the hallstand.  

He smiled to himself while taking two steps into the dark living room.  

He listened to the steady beat of the raindrops on the roof until he noticed it.  

Something was wrong.

Someone was here.  

Someone who wasn’t Mycroft.  

Someone was still here while he was coming home.

 He looked at the rocks which framed the mantelpiece.   

They always acted like a mirror.  

He could see a figure that was standing behind him.

 A man- barely visible in the dark.  

He was close.  

Sherlock tried to turn around but it was too late.  

A poker came through his stomach before he could do something about it.  

His knees hit the cold ground.  

The last thought he had was that he would never be able to tell the people that he had solved the case.

* * *

 

_Nine months later_

He leaned heavily on his cane while walking to the address which was written at the paper in his hand. He knocked on the door and waited until a warmly smiling elder lady opened it.

“Oh hello, can I help you?”

He cleared his throat.

“Yes, hello Missis. I heard about a house that you want to rent. I mean it’s probably silly that I even ask because how could I even afford a house but I met my friend Mike the other day and he…he told me that it wasn’t that expensive and that it was still available and well to be honest it is kind of my last hope.” He scratched on his neck and felt himself blush because he felt so foolish even asking.

But the woman surprised him.

“Oh of course! I would be glad to show it to you. And don’t worry- I’ll make you an affordable price. What’s your name my dear?”

“Um…John Watson… Doctor John Watson.”

“I’m Mrs Hudson. Now tell me on which day would you be free for a visit of the house?”  

* * *

 

_She found someone new. Great. Oh he has a cane. But his limp is psychosomatic. He was a soldier and has a tan so he was in Afghanistan or Iraq. He just gave her advice for her problematic hip… so he wasn’t just a soldier…he was also a doctor…an army doctor._

_Oh now he’s alone. He hasn’t many things. It’s a good thing that the house is already furnished. How many ugly jumpers can someone have?! Wow. So many ugly jumpers._

_Oh and tea. He probably has an obsession with tea. He drinks way too much of it._

_Oh now he sits in a chair and drinks tea. Now he’s just staring at nothing. Wow._

* * *

John liked the house. The furniture was old but cosy.

 He had two floors. The kitchen and the living room were downstairs and the two bedrooms and the bathroom were upstairs. He really liked it.  

John found a job at the surgery and his colleagues welcomed him.

 He wondered if this could be his new home and if it would feel like it someday.  

He felt like something was missing. 

He asked one of his colleagues out on a date.  Her name was Sarah.  She was really nice but they were too similar. They agreed on being just friends.  

He felt lonely.

* * *

 

_He has lived here now for two days…and every night he wakes up screaming and sweating. One night he even cried. So he has PTSD. Interesting.  I have to start soon. The earlier, the better._

_The game is on._

* * *

 

John woke up with a start. He clasped the sheets of his bed and looked around. No one was here besides him. But again there was a loud crash coming from the living room.  

First he thought that he had just dreamed the noise during his usual nightmares about war but no there was definitely a loud crash. Slowly he stirred to get out of his bed and tried to make as little noise as possible. He looked at his bedside cabinet where his gun lay in a drawer.

 John considered taking it but he decided against it because he thought it was probably too exaggerated. He went to the stairs to go downstairs without switching the lights on. As soon as he reached the living room he had to admit that there was absolutely nothing.  

Everything was on his place and there was no human or animal. He checked every room and saw if he had locked the door but everything was fine. Maybe the crash was really just in his dreams; he thought and went to bed again.  

* * *

 

_Good. He went to bed again. What a fool. He didn’t even notice that I put the books that I threw at the wall on the wrong place because of my hurry. This will be easier than I thought._

* * *

After two weeks of really little sleep while having a lot of work at the surgery he was working at, John decided to make an appointment with his psychologist. 

He got one in two days and he was looking forward to telling her what had happened.   

The day came and he woke up with hope in his heart. He went downstairs to make himself breakfast. After finishing eating he stood in the middle of the living room with his cup of tea in his hand. He enjoyed the beginning of spring and the first twittering of birds while the first shafts of sunlight warmed his face.

He let his gaze wander through the room until he stopped at the mantelpiece. The stones there looked weird. For a moment he thought he had seen something being reflected by it but it was probably nothing. He finished his tea and went to work. 

When he came home he had about one hour left before his psychologist would come. So he decided to take a shower. After showering he noticed that he forgot to shave and so he decided to do just that.

John prepared everything and looked into the mirror to shave. He dropped his razor. For one moment he saw a man standing behind him.  

It was just a second.  

Not for longer than a blink of an eye.

 But he was sure.  

There was a man.

 A man with dark curls in a dark suit, looking straight at him.  

But this couldn’t be true. He wondered what was happening with him.

 John stared at the mirror for a long time, trying to see what definitely wasn’t there.

 Then his doorbell rang. His psychologist was there.

* * *

 

He sat down with her and she insisted on him to call her by her first name Francesca. Then he told her everything that had happened but she dismissed it as a result of stress.

“No, you don’t understand. I don’t just imagine this stuff! Every night I wake up because of the loud noises and they are definitely not just in my head! And right before you came I saw a man in my bathroom! He was really there!”

He was getting angry now but he couldn’t stop himself.

“I am not crazy!”

Francesca just frowned and made a few notes. After a few moments of silence she looked up and sighed.

“Look John, here’s no one beside you and me. You told me that you had a lot of nightmares and sometimes they can linger after we woke up. Furthermore you had a really eventful time and you have a stressful job and not a lot of sleep. So it’s perfectly normal that you start to hallucinate.”

John just stared at her clenching his fists.

“I’m going to give you a prescription for some sleeping pills. That will help you. I promise.”

He took a deep breath and nodded defeated. 

* * *

 

_Oh John. You don’t have any luck. Such an incompetent psychologist. And what kind of doctor insists on being called by her first name. She was clearly flirting._

_It doesn’t matter anyway. This was only the beginning. So John, I hope that you’re ready for a lot of sleepless nights._

 


	2. Not what I wanted

John groaned when he woke up because of his alarm clock. He was surprised. It was the sixth day now that he slept through the whole night. He smiled. Maybe Francesca was right and it was just the stress and now everything would be fine.

John went to work and felt more peaceful than he did for a long time. He joked with some colleagues and he felt sanguine.

After work he made himself dinner while humming and after watching a bit of crap telly he went to bed.

That night he dreamed about soldiers. Soldiers who were bleeding and dying. He couldn’t help them anymore. He tried but he failed. There were gunshots everywhere. He couldn’t get away fast enough. One bullet hit him.

There was another gunshot.

He woke up screaming.  

Another bang.

 He sprung from his bed.

 Another bang.  

He sat on the floor.  

Another bang.  

He covered his ears with his hands and closed his eyes.

 Another bang.  

He rocked forth and back.  

Another bang.

 His whole body was shaking.

 Another bang.  

He was crying.

 Another bang.

 Then silence. 

He didn’t know how long he had sat there like this. Some time he heard the birds outside so he opened his eyes.

 It was morning. His t-shirt was damp from tears and his bad leg hurt.

 He took a few breaths and stood up while supporting himself on the bed.  

His legs felt limp.

 He turned his alarm clock off and went downstairs to get ready for work.

The whole day at work he thought about what had happened. This couldn’t all just be in his head. He decided to check where the bangs came from when he would be home.

When he came home he went straight to his bedroom and checked everything.  

He looked even in the closet. Nothing. Then he checked the other rooms. There was nothing. He decided that if that had happened again he would go and find the source while he was hearing it.

The next few nights nothing happened. John was always on edge, always ready. He didn’t get much sleep because of that.

One week later it happened again. 

It went the same way.

First he had a terrible nightmare and then the bangs happened. He was overwhelmed by panic again but this time he stayed in bed.  

He cried and screamed.

 “No! No! Please no! Stop it!”   

After a while of begging the bangs stopped. He opened his eyes. Nothing. He was alone.

He wiped his eyes with his arms and stood up.

He turned the lights on and checked every room but there was no one but him. Again. 

He went back to his room and sat down on his bed. He put his head in his hands. He stayed in this position until it was time to go to work.

The next nights nothing happened but he didn’t trust the peace. He didn’t sleep at all.

 John couldn’t concentrate on his work anymore and his boss suggested he took a time out. He took it.

He flinched at every noise he heard and he was shaking. He was a doctor. He knew what was happening to him. 

He was losing his mind. 

He laughed bitterly at that thought and drank a bit of scotch with his now always shaking hand.

* * *

 

_That’s definitely not what I wanted. I wanted him to move out and not getting an emotional break down. This is going a bit out of hand. Maybe I could cheer him up somehow. Think! Think! Ah he loves tea. I’m going to make him tea. He will feel better. I want him to feel better. I don’t even know why I care._

* * *

When John stood up the next morning-not to mention that he didn’t sleep at all again- he took his cane which was now always leaning on his bedside table and hopped the stairs down to make breakfast.

 There he found a full cup of hot tea.  

He went pale. He didn’t remember making it.

  Now he was definitely losing his mind, there was no doubt.  

 He leeched on the kitchen counter and stared at the tea. He knew that he had to talk to Francesca about everything.

He sighed and drank his tea. Then he called her and made an appointment on Friday.

* * *

 

One day later she came to him and he told her everything.

She just sighed and looked at him. 

“John. You’re a doctor. You know that nothing of what you told me sounds well. I think that the sleeping pills aren’t enough.  I know that you probably don’t want to hear this but I think it would be the best if you went to a mental institution and stay there for a while. As soon as you’re feeling better you can come back. Maybe we just underestimated the stress and trauma you experienced.”

She let him not really a choice and so everything was settled. In two weeks he was going to move to a mental institution.

When she left he went into the living room and grabbed the scotch bottle. He poured it in a glass while thinking about his situation. 

It was hopeless. What had he achieved?

 He thought about how proud his parents were when he went to the army as an army doctor and always showed off with him as the proud parents of a man who wanted to serve his country.  

He never told them that he just went to the army because of the adrenaline and the danger that awaited him there.   

What was he now?

 He was a broken man with a cane and who was mentally ill.  

He couldn’t stand to face his parents and tell them what had become of their son.  

They would be so ashamed. They expected him to marry a nice woman and would become a dad while working in a surgery of his own.

John sobbed. He had now his third glass of scotch.

 Suddenly he made a decision.  

He emptied the glass and went to his bedroom.  

There he opened the drawer of his bedside table.  

His gun waited ready for him.

He grabbed it and went to the chair in the living room again.

 He watched it in his hand like it was the most fascinating thing.  

He knew what to do. He had killed people during the war. This wasn’t different.

John raised the gun and held it to his right temple.  

He closed his eyes.  

His hand didn’t shake.  

Of course it didn’t.  

The danger grounded him.

 He took a deep breath and put his finger on the trigger.

 He tensed his muscles. 

Suddenly the gun was whipped out of his hand. 

It landed a few metres left away from him on the ground. 

He ripped his eyes open and stared in equally wide eyes.

In front of him there was the man he saw in the mirror. He stared at him and for a moment John was lost in his eyes.

He couldn’t tell if they were blue or green or grey. Probably each of them. 

He saw him longer than a second this time.  

So John let his gaze wander over the man.  

He was young. Probably not older than twenty-five.

 Nevertheless his features showed a sharpness that took his breath away. It was as if he had known everything about John or maybe about everything in general.

Beside of that he was the most beautiful human being he had ever seen in his entire life. His dark wild curls framed his face which had very prominent cheekbones. 

His skin was pale as if he was a creature from a fairy tale.

 He was tall, way taller than John which he could see although he was still sitting.  

He wore a dark tailored suit with a white shirt underneath and everything suited him like a second skin and showed how skinny he was.  

It seemed like time had stopped.  

Both stared at each other.  

John with a gaze full of fascination while the gaze of the other man was grim and almost angry.

 Then John rose to stand in front of him.  

As soon as he stood the eyes of the other man widened in shock and he vanished.  

John let out a shaky breath and fell into his chair again.

 After a while he stood up and went to bed, the gun laying forgotten on the ground.

That night he slept well and dreamed of eyes in a really unusual colour.

 

 


	3. Researching about an unexpected flatmate

John slept undisturbed and woke up due to the sound of his alarm clock.

He turned it off and closed his eyes for a moment again.

Suddenly all events of the last day rushed back to him. His pulse fastened. He wanted to kill himself, he remembered. There was a man who hit the gun from his hand. A man who vanished right after it happened.

John stood up and rushed into the living room. He remembered that the gun lay on the ground but there was no gun. He looked everywhere but he couldn’t find it.  He wondered if he had dreamed everything but no he was sure that all of this had happened. 

Francesca might think that he was mentally ill but he wasn’t. He knew that there was a man. A man who saved his life. Although he actually didn’t believe in supernatural stuff he thought about what the mysterious man could be. A ghost? A demon? An angel? Or a hallucination although John didn’t know the man and he wasn’t able to create such a good-looking man in his head.  

There was only one person he knew who could give him answers. So he ate breakfast and went to his landlady who lives just across the street.

Mrs Hudson was a little bit surprised to see him when she opened the door.   

“Oh John, is something wrong? Can I help you with something?”

“Hello Mrs Hudson, I’m really sorry to disturb you this early but I have a few questions but if you have no time right now I can come another time…”

Mrs Hudson just made a waving gesture with her hand.

“Oh nonsense. Come in, John. I’m going to make us some tea.” 

After they sat down on her kitchen table, both with cup of teas in front of them and biscuits in the middle of them, John took a deep breath. 

“Mrs Hudson,the reason why I’m here is that I wanted to ask you if something happened in my house. I mean what is the history of it? Who lived there before me?”

Mrs Hudson frowned and took a sip of her tea.

“Do you want to move out?”

John choked on his tea.

“What? No! No. This is definitely not the case. Why would you think that?”

She looked unhappy.

“This is what has always happened. No renter wanted to stay longer than a week. I’m surprised that you made it this long.”

John nodded and chuckled.

“I can understand why. Some weird stuff happens in this house. That’s why I want to know what happened there.”

Mrs Hudson smiled warmly and nodded.

“Okay. At the beginning the house belonged to a family. Their name was Holmes. They were nice although a bit odd, but who isn’t, right? 

Mr and Mrs Holmes had two sons and after they died the sons stayed there.

They were brilliant, the most clever family I have ever known.  

The older brother worked for the government but was always so reserved so that I don’t know more about him.  

The younger one was the opposite of that. He was a bit wild not in a childish way. He was passionate about the things he loved. He played the violin and that more than well.  

He was such a curious child. He wanted to know anything about everything.  

But he was also very sensitive although he didn’t show it very often. I remember when the family dog died, he cried and cried for hours but after that he didn’t talk about it anymore.”

“So…you were close to them?”

He waited for a reply while eating a few biscuits. 

“Yes, Mrs Holmes and Mr Holmes were friends of mine and we often drank tea together. I was heartbroken when they both died.”

Her eyes shone watery and he tried to speak in a calming voice.

“What happened?”

 “Oh they had a car accident. It was terrible. The boys were twenty-five and eighteen that time and it was just too much for them. The older one plunged himself into his work and the younger one plunged himself into drugs.  

When he was twenty his older brother sent him into rehab and after that he was clean but things still didn’t go well.

The brothers didn’t really talk to each other. It was like two strangers living together. I remember when they were little, they played often together and deduced people together.”

“Deduced?”

“Oh yes that’s what they did. They could look at you and know everything about you because of the states of your clothes or the twitching of your hand. They were brilliant. The younger one always said he wanted to be a detective after rehab. He helped me with some issues with my husband.”

John cocked his head.

“Your husband? May I ask what happened?”

 “Oh, he was a bad man and Sherlock helped me when he was supposed to be executed.”

“Did he prevent it?”

“No, my dear. He ensured it.” 

John choked again on his tea.

Mrs Hudson laughed warmly. 

She waited until John could breathe again.

“So, his name was Sherlock?”

“Oh yes, and the name of his older brother was Mycroft.”

“Odd names.”

“As I said the family was odd.”

“So… what happened?”

Now the corners of her mouth dropped.

“Oh John. Sherlock worked with the police. I remember he told me that he had his first big case and oh he was so excited. I hadn’t seen him that alive since his parents died. But everything went wrong.”

Now her voice broke and a few tears were falling down her face.

John took her hand and waited until she was ready to continue.

“Sherlock was murdered. He was murdered in your house in a terrible way.”

Still holding her hand with one hand he passed her a tissue with the other one.

“How?”

She sniffed.

 “Someone speared him with a poker through his stomach. It was so terrible. He didn’t deserve that. He was only twenty-five at the time.”

“Where was his brother?”

“He was on a journey for his work. He arrived a few hours later and found him. That was the only time I saw him showing emotions. He trembled and held his brother. It was heart-breaking.  

Mycroft didn’t bear to live there anymore after that and so he moved away and sold the house to me. Before that I was just a neighbour. He doesn’t even visit the grave of his brother often.”

John frowned and thought about everything.

“Thank you for telling me all of this. I have a really odd question. How did Sherlock look like?”

Mrs Hudson frowned and looked a bit puzzled but answered.

“He had black curly hair and he was very skinny but tall. Why?”

John took a deep breath.

“Then I know exactly then I’m not crazy. Thank you so much Mrs Hudson.”

With these words he said good bye to a very confused looking landlady.

* * *

 

After he went shopping into the grocery store, he went back to his house.

As soon as he entered it he had a weird feeling. Now he knew that he wasn’t alone and someone was probably watching him. The thought made John shiver.

He took off his jacket and went to the living room. There he stood in the middle of the room , his hands on his hips.

“Okay, this is ridiculous.”, he murmured.

Then John took a deep breath and spoke louder. 

“I went to Mrs Hudson. She told me everything about the family that lived here. She also told me that someone was killed here or better that you were killed here. I think that you’re still here, Sherlock. I also think that you scared the entire previous renters away and that you also tried that with me. You were almost successful as you know.”

He took a shaky breath before he continued.

“But actually I just want to thank you. You saved my life. You didn’t need to do that but you did. I mean you were though the reason why I thought I was mentally ill but I think that you didn’t calculate that I would kill myself instead of moving out. So I forgive you and I’m just truly thankful that you saved me. I …okay that was all I wanted to say. Okay.”

John nodded into nothing full with emotion. He let his gaze wander through the whole room but he was alone. He nodded once, accepting that he wouldn’t see him again. He turned around to go to his room when he heard a voice.

“You’re welcome.”

John froze. He turned around very slowly. There in front of the mantelpiece was Sherlock Holmes. He stood there with an amused look on his face.

John’s mind went blank. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. So he lost it and started giggling.

Sherlock looked concerned.

“What’s so funny?”

John couldn’t stop.

“You’re a ghost. I’m living with a ghost.”

Sherlock watched him for a moment and then joined him.

When they both sobered John looked at Sherlock with a serious gaze. Then he stepped a bit closer to Sherlock.

“I actually don’t believe in ghosts.”

Sherlock smirked.

“Me neither and I am a ghost.”

John snorted at that and Sherlock grinned.

“Can I ask you something?”

Sherlock just waited expectantly.

“How did you do it? The noises…the noises at night.”

“Oh, that. At first I just threw books at the walls and let stuff fall. Later I played scenes from war movies on your laptop.”

John looked impressed and then frowned.

“But… from where? I checked everything. There was no laptop.”

“It was in your closet.”

“I looked into the closet!”

“Yes, but only after you checked the other rooms.”

“Oh.”

Sherlock shrugged.

“Yes.”

“So… the tea…. Did you make it or did I forget it?” 

Sherlock looked a bit ashamed.

“I did it.”

 John couldn’t help but grin a bit.

“But why?” 

Now Sherlock looked uncomfortable. 

“I don’t know. I guess I felt a bit guilty and wanted to cheer you up.”

John beamed at him and then started laughing.

“Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”

Sherlock looked like he was sulking. That sight made John only laugh harder. 

“I guess I can just disappear again, if you want to.”

Those made John stop. 

“Okay, wait, wait.”

Sherlock stayed. 

“So… you can touch things? I mean if you’re able to throw stuff and use a laptop and make tea…”

“Really well observed, John.” 

John raised one eyebrow but he wasn’t finished.”

“Can you touch me?”

Sherlock looked shocked like that was the last thing he expected John to ask.

After a moment he cleared his throat and answered.

“No. I can only touch things that aren’t alive.”

John frowned but nodded.

A few moments neither of them said something. Both of them deep in thought. Finally Sherlock broke the silence.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

John’s head snapped up. 

“Oh, that is what Mrs Hudson meant. Your deductions.”

Sherlock nodded. 

“Afghanistan. Did you also deduce everything about me when I moved in?”

Sherlock nodded again.

 Then John made an inviting gesture. Sherlock looked confused.

“Go ahead. Deduce me.”

 Sherlock hesitated a moment but then began.

“You were an army soldier. How I know? Your hair, tan and posture tell me soldier. Your advice to Mrs Hudson tell me doctor. You were wounded- shot in your left shoulder. I saw you often enough without a t-shirt so let’s not talk about that.”

John blushed at that but Sherlock continued.

“And…you had a psychosomatic limping that’s why you have a cane and a psychologist named Francesca who wants you to move into a mental clinic.”

“You meant have right?”

Sherlock smirked.

“You haven’t used your cane once John.”

John realised that he had no pain in his leg and that he didn’t even think about the cane.

“Fantastic.”

“Yes, now you can walk faster.”

“No, no I meant your deductions. They were brilliant.”

Sherlock beamed at him.

“Do you really think so?”

“Of course. That was extraordinary.”

“That isn’t what people usually said.”

“Why? What did they say?”

 “Piss off.”

John couldn’t help but laugh at that and even Sherlock chuckled.

After a while John found his breath again and Sherlock continued.

“I wasn’t finished actually.  You have a sister with a drinking problem whose phone calls you never answer and by the way your psychologist Francesca? She’s flirting with you.”

“What?”

“Oh come one which doctor insists on being called by her first name? Please.” 

John grinned.

“Are you jealous?”

That put Sherlock completely out of his stride.

“What? Why should I?...What?”

John just laughed.

“Oh forget it I was only teasing.”  

“Right.”

John smiled at him and Sherlock returned it with a little smile of himself.

After a while John decided to make himself dinner while Sherlock just sat into one of the chairs. Both stayed quiet, equally deep in thought.

Then John noticed how late it was.

 “I should go to bed.”

Sherlock just acknowledged that with a nod.

“Alright.”

He walked to the stairs but then a thought occurred to him and so he went back into the living room.

Sherlock just looked up and met his eyes with a curious gaze.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“Um…nothing will happen now at night right? I mean now that I know that it’s you?”

Sherlock grinned.

“No, don’t worry.”

John nodded.

“Okay. Good.”

He still stood in place and so Sherlock frowned.

“What else?”

John scratched his neck and blushed a bit.

“Um…you will still be here tomorrow right? I mean I will be able to see you right? You won’t disappear again?”

Sherlock frowned again.

“Yes, I’ll be here. I can’t go anywhere.”

John nodded again but stayed where he was and looked at Sherlock with worry.

 Sherlock sighed.

“I promise, John.” 

John cleared his throat.

“Okay, right. Thanks. Good night then, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked confused and didn’t answer until John was upstairs.

“Good night, John and you’re welcome.”

 


	4. The past of the former living

As soon as John opened his eyes after a better sleep that he hadn’t had for a long time, he felt a bit anxious.

Sherlock promised him to be still there but he still had the urge to see him with his own eyes.

So he stood up as fast as he could and rushed down the stairs only to find Sherlock still sitting in the chair.

Now John felt a bit foolish standing in the door to the living room out of breath and the look which Sherlock gave him didn’t make it better.

Sherlock looked like he was trying to hold of a laugh but John was just relieved.

“You’re still here.”

“I said I would be.”

John smiled at that and Sherlock smiled a bit back but frowned soon after.

John pretended not to notice it and went to make breakfast. After he finished eating he sat down in the chair across from Sherlock.

“So…how did this happen?”

John started speaking but was cut off by Sherlock with an almost angry look on his face.

“John. It’s obvious that you feel obligated to talk to me. You want to be polite. Just...don’t.” 

For a moment John was too perplexed to say something.

“But… what? No! I don’t talk to you because I feel obligated to! I talk to you because I’m really interested in you.”

Now Sherlock looked shocked and with wide eyes and John noticed how what he had just said sounded.

He blushed.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean… I’m really interested in how you became a ghost.”

Sherlock smirked a bit.

“You mean how I died.”

John agreed while looking uncomfortable at the ground.

“You really want to hear the story?” 

“Yes.”

John looked up and saw that Sherlock let his gaze wander over John’s body like looking for something and after a while it seemed like he had found it.

“Very well then.”

Sherlock started in a detached voice and a blank expression on his face. 

“You have to know that I was working on my first big case as a consulting detective at that moment and I was confident of victory. Maybe too much. I was acting too careless.”

“Yes, Mrs Hudson told me about that. She said you were really excited. But wait…a consulting detective?”

Sherlock nodded.

“Yes, I was indeed. I thought that this case would change the way everyone thought about me. I thought that would be my breakthrough and I invented the job, so don’t bother.”

“Okay...so…what happened?”

Sherlock frowned.

“Well… the day I found the last missing piece of the case I was so happy that I didn’t observe my surroundings enough and so… when I came home the killer of the victims of the case was already here and before I could do something against it, he killed me.”

Now John was frowning too. He had to swallow before he could ask further.

“How?”

“He piled a poker through my stomach. He was behind me. I sank to my knees and that’s it.”

Sherlock looked into the far distance and his mouth was pinched into a hard line.

A few moments neither of them said something. Then John broke the silence.

“And… how … I mean when… did you become a ghost?”

“The next thing I know that after a few days of my death, I was suddenly here. At first I was just confused but then I realised that I was dead. That I was dead and a ghost. I couldn’t leave the house and many other things.”

John felt sorry for him and had to urge to comfort him. In an instinct move he reached out to touch his hand but then he remembered that he couldn’t and took it back.

But Sherlock was staring at John’s hand and then at his own. Then he frowned.

“What were you trying to do?”

“I wanted to comfort you but I guess I just forgot for a moment that you’re a ghost and that I can’t touch you.”

Sherlock was staring at nothing again and almost whispered in wonder.

“You forgot.”

After that Sherlock didn’t seem to react to anything and so John went to change his clothes and get groceries.

When he came back Sherlock was sitting in the exact same position he left him.

After he unpacked the bags he made himself a cup of tea and sat again across from Sherlock.

“What was your big case about?”

Sherlock didn’t seem to be back from his mind and so John who couldn’t touch him waved in front of his face.

“Hellooo? John to Sherlock…please. Hello?”

Finally Sherlock seemed to snap out of his mind and glaring at John who was still waving his hand.

“What do you want?”

John grinned.

“Oh, so you’re back? “

 Sherlock just continued glaring at him. 

“I asked you what you’re big case was about.”

This seemed to soothe him and he began to talk with a gleam in his eyes. He told John about the gruel murder and John hung on his lips. When he was finished John had only one question.

“Why did he murder all these people?”  

Now Sherlock was completely in his element.

“That- John, was the missing part. I found it. I solved it.”

John urged him to keep talking.

“Well okay… you see the killer, Liam Bellamy, had once a wife and a daughter. But his wife died in childbirth and so he was a really loving and caring father for his daughter. She was his whole world.

Her name was Maddie and she was mute. When she was eight years old she was on an overnight school excursion, she had no friends and was bullied.”

John looked really sad and a bit shocked because Sherlock acted this untouched.

“Yes, John. She was a really poor girl. However she had a teddy bear with a red bow-tie which she always carried with her and he was also with her when she died.”

Now John looked shocked but Sherlock just carried on. 

“While she was at the bathroom the building started burning and her door stuck and no one was looking for her and so she… charred.”

“Oh God,no. That poor girl.”

He was clinging at the arms of the chair.

“Um… well however her father blamed the two teachers and six supervisors and so he killed them.”

“But how could no one connect that before?”

“Because Maddie’s death was ten years ago and it was presented as a tragic accident and he started killing  them about one and a half years ago. Oh and the police are idiots.”  

“Hm… and you had never the chance to tell them who the murder was?”

Sherlock shook his head.

“Why didn’t you… I don’t know call them or write them an e-mail?”

Sherlock smirked while he lifted his eyebrows disapproving.

“Oh that would have been very reliable. Genius, John.”

John snorted.

“Whatever. I’m going to make dinner, now.”

He didn’t get a sign of acknowledging so he just stood up and started making dinner. When he looked to the chair he saw that Sherlock wasn’t there anymore.

 He frowned but kept making dinner. 

After he finished eating he sat at the table a while thinking about everything Sherlock told him.

 He made a decision.

“I was thinking… and I want to help you.”

One second later Sherlock was standing next to the table.

“You want to help me. Why? And how could you help me?”

John raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t act so arrogant. It’s clear that this is the thing that holds you here. You weren’t able to get the murderer and so you became a ghost.”

Sherlock just shrugged.

“I doubt that this is the case but okay let’s say it is. What do you want to do?”

He narrowed his eyes while fixating John with his gaze.

John crossed his arms feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“I… thought I could go to the police and tell them who the murderer is.”

Now Sherlock laughed and it was clear that it was a mocking laugh.

“You? They won’t believe you a single word.”

Now John was banging his fist on the table.

“Enough! I just wanted to help you! But if that’s how you want to thank me then no! I’ll just go to bed. Good night!”

He was standing up now and walking towards the living room.

“Why do you want to help me?”

John turned around to see that Sherlock was now standing arms crossed and frowning.

John sighed.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m a nice person? Maybe because I like you? I don’t know. Maybe because I’m an idiot.”

“You like me?”

“Of course I do. I spent my whole day with you.”

Now Sherlock was smiling a little smile that John would consider as adorable. He looked like he never met someone who liked him and that concerned John more than he would ever admit. 

“Okay, I think you could help me. But we’ll talk about that tomorrow, you need your sleep.”

John smiled back now.

“Oh. Great. Good night, Sherlock.”

“Good night.”

John was just about to enter his bedroom when he heard Sherlock.

“Oh and John? You’re definitely an idiot.”

John chuckled at that and went to his bed to sleep like a baby.

* * *

 

The next morning John didn’t see Sherlock until he finished breakfast and was reading the newspaper in his chair.  

But he didn’t really pay attention to what he was reading because of a thought that befell him at night.  

He really had to talk to Sherlock about this.

 As if he could read his mind Sherlock was suddenly sitting across of John in what was apparently now officially his chair.

 “Good morning, John.”

John flinched.

“For God’s sake Sherlock! You can’t just scare me like that.”

Sherlock frowned.

“Usually you aren’t that easy to scare, John. So what’s wrong? Why were you that deep in thought?” 

He let his gaze wander over John like analysing him.

“Oh you want to ask me something. Something that bothers you. Hm… interesting. Okay go ahead.”

John pressed his lips together. After a moment he sighed.

“Okay. Um… well… I thought about something and now I’m feeling stupid because I didn’t think about that earlier. “

Sherlock looked now just impatient and so John went on. 

“You scared every renter before me away and you also tried that with me because you wanted me to move out. Right?”

 “Yes…”

 John swallowed and nodded.

“Okay. Well I thought that I should probably move out if you want that. I mean I already looked for apartments and flats in the newspaper but at the moment it seems like there are none that I could afford. So… if you give me a few weeks I could…”

He was cut off by Sherlock who was looking shocked.

“No.”

John froze.

“No?”

“No. I don’t want you to move out.”

“Why?”

“Think about it. As soon as you’ll move out the next renter will be here. Another person I’ll need to get rid of.” 

Now John had to look pained because Sherlock hastily talked further. 

“Besides I somehow enjoy your company and that’s not just because you’re the first person I have talked with in ten months. You’re interesting and until now you never bored me but we have only known each other for about three days so… don’t interpret too much in it.”

Sherlock had said that so fast that John had to concentrate to keep up with it but he did and now he couldn’t stop his big smile that was now on his face.

He beamed at Sherlock, smiling.

Sherlock looked uncomfortable and a bit like a deer that was caught in car light.  He was fidgeting with his hands when he took a breath to speak.

“Um… so will you stay?”

John couldn’t stop smiling.

“Yes.”  

Sherlock nodded.

After a while Sherlock cleared his throat. 

 “Well… I think we should plan now how you could go to the police.”

“Okay. Then tell me everything I need to know.”

“Very well. I worked with a detective inspector Dimmock who was responsible for that case. You should ask to speak with him. Maybe you could tell him that you found notations from me where I explained everything.”

Sherlock stopped talking and looked at John calculating.

Then he sighed.

“John. I really don’t think that you should do that. There’s no way that they will believe you. In the best case they’ll just think that you’re crazy and laugh but in the worst case they will lock you up.”

John took a moment to consider everything and he knew that Sherlock was probably right but as soon as he looked into the ghost’s eyes he knew the decision was made.

“I’ll do it. It’s worth a try.”

“John.”

“No, no. It’s my decision and I want to help you. So let me go.”

Sherlock sighed defeated and watched as John prepared to go to the police.

* * *

 

As soon as John stepped into the police station his muscles tensed from adrenalin.  He asked at the information desk where he could find that detective inspector Dimmock and waited. 

A few minutes later a grey-haired man came to John and shook his hand.

 “Hello, I heard that you want to speak with detective inspector Dimmock.”

John nodded.

“I’m afraid to tell you that he’s no longer working here. He married and moved away a few months ago. I’m detective inspector Lestrade. How can I help you, Dr Watson?”

John didn’t expect that. He hadn’t even thought about that possibility.  He cursed himself.

He swallowed. There was no going back now. 

“I… wanted to speak with him about a case that was about ten months ago.” 

Lestrade raised his eyebrows.  

“Which case do you mean?”

“I mean the one with the teddy bears.”

Now Lestrade narrowed his eyes and John froze.

“Oh, really? Could you please come with me? I would rather have this talk inside of an interrogation room.” 

John nodded and followed the man while feeling like sealing his own fate.

When they entered the room Lestrade gestured John to sit down.  Then he left the room.

A few minutes later Lestrade arrived again with a file in his hand.

“So… what can you tell me?”

“I can tell you who the murderer is.”

“Oh, is that so? Go ahead.”

John swallowed.

“Liam Bellamy.”

“Never heard of that name.”

“It’s the truth.”

 Now Lestrade was crossing his arms.

“Tell me how you would know that?”

“I… I found some notations of someone who worked on that case.”

Now Lestrade was laughing a humourless laugh.

“Really? Whose?” 

“Sherlock Holmes. He was working as a consulting detective.”

“A what? This job doesn’t even exist. I have also never heard of this name either.”

 Now all hope left John.

“You know I think it’s rather suspicious that you suddenly come here, talk to me about a cold case and try to tell me who the murderer is. Is someone feeling a bit guilty?” 

John tensed.

“I wasn’t even in the country at the time!”

“That doesn’t mean that you had nothing to do with it.”

“I didn’t! Please let me explain everything!”

He was cut off by Lestrade.

“I think I heard enough for now. You’re officially in remand, Dr Watson.”

With that Lestrade turned around and left the room, while at the same time at home a wreck called Sherlock was pacing in the living room sick with worry.

 


	5. New friends and old enemies

It had been six hours since Lestrade had left the room. John couldn’t believe it.  Why did always something like that happen to him?

He grabbed his hair with his hands. Suddenly the door opened and a serious looking Lestrade came in.

“I spoke with Dimmock. He knows who Sherlock Holmes is and he said that he worked with him. He also said that he died. So this part of your story seems to be true. Now you said you found some notations of him. Where are they?”

John swallowed. He hadn’t thought about that. 

“Um… there was an instruction which said that I have to destroy it as soon as I read it.”

Lestrade looked at him as if John was the stupidest man he had ever met.

“And you did that?”

John nodded.

Lestrade sighed.

“Look. In our files is no entry about a Liam Bellamy and it’s a really serious accusation to say that he’s a serial killer. I have no proof and you have no proof of that. If you’re willing to let your charges against Mr Bellamy drop, I would say that you can go.”

It was really tempting. John could just go and live his life like every ordinary man would. But he was never ordinary and that’s why he said what he said next.

“No.”

Lestrade sighed frustrated.

“No?! Are you really that into sitting here locked up?”

“No, I’m not. But I really want this murderer to be locked up.”

“Listen. You have no proof beside your word.” 

John took a deep breath.

 “I know someone who could tell you everything that you need to lock Mr Bellamy up.”

Now Lestrade looked interested.

“Really? Who?”

John looked pained while pressing the words out.

“Sherlock Holmes.”

Now Lestrade basically growled.

“Don’t mess with me! I told you that he’s dead!”

John tried to be calm and nodded although he knew that his next sentence would let him sound like a mad man.

“I know that. But I’m living in his old house and he’s still there. He…. he…. he is a ghost now.”

Lestrade pursed his lips and just looked at John suppressing his anger. Then he stood up to go right out of the room, leaving John once more alone.

Ten minutes later he came back just looking expectantly at John.

John sighed.

“It’s true. I couldn’t make something like that up. I’m not that imaginative. I didn’t even believe in ghosts, so I was really shocked when I realised that I’m living with one. Please believe me.”

The inspector still just looked disbelieving at John.

 “I can prove it. You just have to come to my house and see for yourself. There’s a ghost!”

Lestrade chewed on his lips for a few moments.

“Why should I do that? As far as I know you could just be a psychopath who wants to kill me as soon as I’m alone with him.”

“Because of the same reason why you’re still here, listening to me. You believe me.”

Lestrade frowned and so John hastily talked further.

“And you’re armed and I’m not.”

Lestrade narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips again. After a few moments he sighed.

“I must be crazy.”

John let a breath go which he didn’t even realised he was holding. 

* * *

 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! And I claim to be a genius! A genius would have thought that through! There’re too many variables that we don’t know! Why did I let John go?! Oh great! He’s probably locked up right now and will never come back! Oh no! What am I going to do if he’s not coming back? I will be here alone in eternity. Or now I won’t. The next stupid renter will come and just live here without knowing whom he replaced. Oh no ,no ,no ,no ,no! This can’t happen! This just can’t happen! Am I having a mental breakdown?! How is this even possible?!_

* * *

Still handcuffed John arrived with Lestrade at his house. It was clear that the second man was still convinced that John was in fact guilty and that he hoped that he would find some evidence against him at this place.

He let the suspicious looking inspector in and led him into the living room. They were alone or so it seemed.

 “So where’s your ghost?”

John sighed and then yelled.

“Sherlock? You need to show yourself because unless you didn’t notice, I’m in handcuffs. You know what that means right? They didn’t believe me a word and unless you show yourself and prove that I’m not just a crazy person I’ll end in jail.”

Nothing happened and John had an unbidden painful thought. What if this was Sherlock’s plan all along? So it was easy to get rid of him.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and tried one more time, well aware how hurt he sounded.

“If you really wanted to get rid of me that bad you just had to ask me to move out! I even asked you if I should go and you said no! This is a really grotty way to do it! I never thought you would do something like that! After everything that…”

He was cut off by a well-known baritone which sounded a bit shaky himself. 

“I would never do that.”

 Sherlock was now standing in front of John who was just looking at him with watery eyes and tried not to be too ashamed because of the scene he caused.

“You’re here.”

Sherlock looked wrecked and a bit more vulnerable than he had ever seen him.

“I… tried to find a way out of the house but nothing worked and in the end the bookshelf fell on me and I was… stuck.”

John had to laugh at that and after a moment Sherlock joined him.

“Oh I wish I could have seen that.”

Sherlock laughed again while glaring playfully at him.

Then they heard a third voice next to them.

“You…. you’re a… a ghost.”

They both turned to look at Lestrade whom they had completely forgotten. 

He stood frozen with shaking hands beside John and was staring at Sherlock who answered.

“It seems like it.”

That didn’t help at all and so he looked like he might faint. John, always the doctor, looked pointedly at Sherlock and then urged Lestrade to sit down.  

“I would give you a glass of water but I think my hands are tied.”

Sherlock smirked at that and even Lestrade laughed a bit. After a while he seemed to relax a bit. 

Then he opened the handcuffs and got water and a cup of tea from John.

After drinking it he looked into Sherlock’s eyes.

 “How do I know that you’re indeed a ghost and not just a projection?”

Sherlock snorted.

“So…you really think that before I died I created a projection of me, pretending to be here?”

“No, but someone else could have done it.”

Sherlock raised both of his eyebrows.

“Please. No one would be clever enough to do that. And a projection couldn’t grab things. Look.”

With that he grabbed Lestrade’s abandoned cup and began to throw it from hand to hand.

Lestrade’s eyes widened. A few moments later he narrowed his eyes again.

“But this doesn’t mean that you’re a ghost. Maybe you’re just a normal human.”

Sherlock smirked.

“Do you really think that? So do normal humans often just appear in front of you? That would worry me if I were you.”

Lestrade just narrowed his eyes further until Sherlock sighed.

“Okay, see. I can’t touch living things.”

He lifted one hand to show it Lestrade demonstrative and then with an apologizing look put it through John’s head.

John flinched although he didn’t feel it. He heard Lestrade gasp and so Sherlock put his hand back and looked expectantly at Lestrade.

“Convinced?”

Lestrade nodded and then listened to Sherlock’s story.  

He basically hanged on Sherlock’s lips. Something that John could relate to. When Sherlock finished, Lestrade looked exhausted.

“Wow. That… sounds logical. But this is a cold case. So I have to open it up again and talk with everyone who was involved back then. I would say that as soon as I have someone who could give us more information, I would bring them here, so you could talk to them. I mean your deductions seem helpful. Would that be okay?”

He looked expectantly at Sherlock who just looked at John.

John nodded and so Sherlock agreed.  

Then Lestrade bid his farewell. As soon as he was gone , Sherlock groaned.

John looked at him worried. 

“What is it?”

“Everyone who was involved! Do you know what that means?”

John had a blank look on his face and so Sherlock basically growled.

“I’ll have to meet people that hate me, John!”

Now John frowned.

“Why would they hate you?”

Sherlock looked frustrated.

“Oh come on, John! Don’t be so naïve! I wasn’t the nicest human being! I had more enemies than anything else! And now I’ll invite some of them in my house!”

“But now you have me.”

That stopped Sherlock’s tirade.

“What?”

“Now I’ll be on your side and so no one will dare to be mean to you.”

“I don’t need a guardian, John.” 

“Maybe. But you got one.”

Sherlock just frowned and beamed at John who just smiled in return.

After a moment Sherlock breathed out and smiled back, defeated.

Then John started to make dinner and went to bed afterwards. They barely talked to each other, both lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

 

The next day Lestrade called them to let them know that he would visit them later with a Sargent, a forensic scientist and the specialist registrar of the morgue. 

When John told Sherlock all of that he just groaned again and then sulked a few hours, refusing to talk.

 As soon as the doorbell rang Sherlock stood up and adjusted his suit. John looked at him while chewing on his lips.

“Will you promise me something?”  

Sherlock frowned but looked interested.

“Could you please not vanish as soon as you’re feeling uncomfortable?”

Sherlock just looked at him without answering.

John sighed and went to the door and opened it. He looked at Lestrade expectantly.

 “I told them everything.”

John nodded and let everyone in. After that he closed the door and went back to the living room where he was greeted with a really thick silence.  

Their guests formed one unit who stood across from Sherlock who looked at them with narrowed eyes.

Hastily John took his place next to Sherlock and tried to smile at everyone.

Suddenly the curly haired woman spoke.

“So, it’s true then. You can’t even die like a normal human being, Freak.”

John’s whole body tensed. He wanted to say something back but Sherlock was faster.

“Sally, nothing has changed as I see. Anderson is still sleeping with you when his wife is out of town. What can I say? Everyone needs a hobby.”

During his second sentence he looked at a dark haired man who was now really angry looking and the woman named Sally had a dark-red coloured face now.  

Lestrade tried to conciliate but the three of them just glared at each other. After a few moments a sniffing sound broke the spell.

 All of them turned around to see a small looking woman who was staring at Sherlock and crying.

Lestrade looked genuinely worried. 

“Molly? Is everything all right?” 

Molly nodded and smiled.

“It’s just, I thought I would never meet him again and now…Sherlock… I’m really sorry about what happened to you.”

Sherlock looked terrified, confronted with a crying woman in front of him.

“It’s okay.”

Now the woman cried even more and almost yelled.

“No! It’s not. Do you know how I found out about your death?”

She waited for an answer but Sherlock just stared at her and then his mouth opened.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh! I had to make the autopsy at you! Do you have any idea how I felt?”

Sherlock looked confused.

“I’m…sorry?”

Now Molly frowned.

“No, it’s not your fault. But it was just a really bad day… but it doesn’t matter now. I mean you’re here!”

Now she smiled at him a really big smile and John knew suddenly that this girl was in love with his dead flatmate.

Sherlock gave her a fake smile in return but she didn’t seem to notice.

Then Lestrade took over and they all told what they had found during the investigations and Sherlock interrupted often to tell his opinion. 

The meeting took several hours but in the end they all were on the same page.

 Then Lestrade said that he would tell them if he found something new and they all said their farewells but Molly.

John went to the kitchen to clean the used cups when he saw how Molly approached Sherlock who was reading in some documents Lestrade had given him.

“Um… Sherlock?”

He didn’t look up but Molly kept talking.

“Are you okay?”

That got his attention.

“What?”

“I mean you died and now you’re forced to live here with a stranger…”

Sherlock cut her off.

“John isn’t a stranger.”

Molly blushed and Sherlock frowned.

First she looked like she wanted to say something else but she decided against it.

“Okay… well if you need me, just call or write an e- mail.”

Sherlock was now again studying his documents and didn’t pay attention to her anymore. 

Then she went and John felt an urge to find out what kind of relationship his flatmate had with this woman. 

A while later when he finished his dinner he decided to just ask him so he went to the living-room where Sherlock was sitting in his chair, arms in praying position under his chin, eyes closed.

John sat down at his one and cleared his throat.

Sherlock opened his eyes and smirked at John.

John smiled back.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”  

“You didn’t vanish.”

Sherlock nodded once.

A few moments neither of them said anything and they sat in a comfortable silence.

“So… was Molly your…girlfriend?”

Sherlock’s eyes widened.

“Girlfriend? No… that’s …really not my area.” 

“Oh…I see. So you I don’t know… just slept with her?”

Now Sherlock looked truly shocked.

“Why would you… why would you think that?!” 

“Because she’s clearly besotted with you.”

Sherlock just frowned, still shocked.

“No…it’s not like that. I mean I know that she has feelings for me and that was always useful in the past but I would never…”

“Useful?!”

“Yes, she always let me see the bodies and gave me stuff to work on at home.”

“Oh. So… you two…weren’t… I don’t know…a thing?”

“No…we weren’t a thing. If you’re so interested in her you could ask her out!”

Now Sherlock looked annoyed and John was the one who was shocked.

“No, I’m not interested in her! I just wondered if you were single-that’s all.”

John blushed and tried to hide it behind his cup of tea which he hastily drank.  

Sherlock let his gaze sweep over John’s body and then smirked.

“Interesting.” 

“What?”

“Are you flirting with me, John Watson?”

John chocked on his tea and took a breath to answer but Sherlock cut him off.

“Because if you are then I have to tell you that I’m truly flattered of your interested but I have to tell you that I’m unfortunately dead.”

Sherlock grinned and John started to laugh.

“Idiot.”

Sherlock joined his laugh and they stayed like that, laughing for a while. When they sobered Sherlock looked serious.

“Um… about your question. Yes, I was single and there was never a time in that I wasn’t single.”

John’s eyes widened.

“So… you mean you… have never had…. a relationship?”

“No. Why are you so shocked about that fact?”

“Because… you’re….you’re you.”

He gestured at Sherlock’s whole feature.

Sherlock frowned and looked genuinely confused. 

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

Sherlock still had a blank look on his face and so John groaned.

“Oh for god’s sake! You’re honestly the best-looking man or even person I have ever seen in my entire life!”

First Sherlock looked shocked but then his mouth became a hard line.

“Yes, but that’s it. Don’t you think that there were a lot of people that wanted me exactly because of that? Because of my look? But as soon as I spoke they realised how I’m and they vanished faster than you can imagine. After I discovered that I decided to never ever try that again. I mean flirting etcetera.”  

John groaned again. Sherlock gave him a questioning look.

“That’s one of the moments where I want to take your hands so badly.”

Sherlock looked surprised and John continued.

“I’m sorry that you had to make such bad experiences but not everyone is like that. And to be honest I think if someone didn’t like your character then this person is an idiot. I mean I told you so many times that you’re brilliant and amazing and I mean it. Your look is just the cherry on the cake.”

Now John had the nerve to wink at Sherlock and he was in that moment more than grateful as ever that he wasn’t able to blush.

John sighed.

“However, I have to sleep. So… good night.”

He smiled at Sherlock who just still looked shocked.

After a few seconds he recovered just as John reached the stairs.

“Thank you.”

John’s smile grew impossibly wider and he just nodded and went upstairs.

Later that night when John was fast asleep, Sherlock allowed himself to climb the stairs himself.

He stood next to John’s bed and just watched the man.  

_My behaviour is more than creepy. But I’m a ghost- isn’t it my job to be creepy? What would John think if he detected me? He would probably be angry._

John suddenly stirred in his sleep and rolled to the other side.

_He looks adorable. Wait… adorable?! Who says such sings? I’m embarrassing! The things he said this evening and I can tell that he means it… I never met someone like him when I was alive. I wish he could hold my hands and that says something because usually I want to punch everyone who wants to touch me. But I wouldn’t even consider punching him if he would try to touch me…. I wish I was still alive._

 


	6. Missing the uncherished

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to mention that the second half of this chapter is written by the best co-author in the world :)

The next day started quite uneventfully with John making his breakfast. They both waited for a call from Lestrade. Then John decided to shop some groceries. He told Sherlock but he only made an acknowledging sound while he was sitting at his chair, still reading some papers from the last day. 

As John walked through the shop he watched the other people talking, laughing and some even fighting. He saw an exhausted mother with her crying child who didn’t get what it wanted. There was also a teenage girl who was just looking at her phone while her father talked about apparently boring stuff. John let his gaze wander over everyone and suddenly he felt a huge pain in his chest when he thought about the fact that Sherlock would never be able to do something like that again. He would never amber through the supermarket. He would never be annoyed by the incredible long waiting line or the incapable staff.

When he came home he unpacked the bags and made himself a cup of tea.

 Still in thoughts he sat down in his chair. John sat there a while still thinking when he suddenly heard his name in a annoyed tone which implied that he had already been called a few times.

He shook his head and focused on Sherlock who still sat in his chair. He looked annoyed and frowned at John who cleared his throat.

“Sorry. What?”

“I just asked you if Lestrade called you on your phone but you didn’t answer.”

Sherlock looked seriously worried- that was new. 

“Um… no sorry. He didn’t.”

Sherlock nodded but his gaze remained worried.

“What are you thinking about the whole time? Did something happen?”

“Oh, no. It’s just…okay you’ll probably just laugh… but when I was at the shop I thought about all the things that you aren’t able to do and never will again.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened and he looked genuinely surprised.

“Oh.” 

John chuckled weakly.

“Yes… I mean I would miss so many things if I was…I mean is there anything that you’re missing?”

Sherlock smiled a bit and he sighed before he answered.

“Um…there are a few things indeed. I miss my violin. I miss cigarettes. I miss London. I mean I wish I could wander through the city, see everything, feel everything, the pulse of it. I even miss tea … and even if that sounds weird I somehow miss breathing, sniffing, freezing and sweating. I always said that my body is only transport… I mean when I was alive… but even now I would give everything to have this transport. I mean I rarely slept back then…but now I would give everything to just feel exhausted. Wow… all of that sound so unlike me. I would deny it but John really, Sherlock Holmes misses being alive.” 

John was beaming at him and Sherlock was avoiding his gaze, feeling uncomfortable about his own outburst. 

“I understand completely.”

Sherlock just nodded.

 “I sometimes even miss pain.”

John laughed a bit at that. 

“Oh, yes. Pain is the privilege of the living ones.”

Sherlock agreed.

 For a while they both sat there in silence. Then John made himself a second cup of tea.

 “And what would you do if you were alive again?”

Sherlock raised both eyebrows and shot him an unbelieving look.

“Oh come on. Just hypothetically. “ 

Sherlock sighed but smiled.

“Right. Okay. Let’s see… I would wander through this city, look what’s different and check in my homeless network if everything is still all right. Then I would buy some cigarettes and smoke them all. Hm… oh then I would get my violin and play it.”

 Sherlock now smiled wistfully and John shot him a fond smile.

“So… homeless network? And I would love to hear you play.”

Sherlock nodded and explained his network. Then John took a deep breath.

 “Do you think that it would be somehow possible to… make you alive again?”

Sherlock frowned.

“Don’t be ridiculous. No, of course not. That would be scientifically impossible.”

“But being a ghost is that too.”

Sherlock breathed out.

“I know but I … there’s no possibility. It was nice to talk about that but it’ll never be reality. I’m sorry. I want to be alone for a while… sorry.”

Before John could say something Sherlock was vanished. John sighed. He understood that it must be painful for him.

John grabbed a novel to read but he just couldn’t concentrate on it. His thoughts circled around Sherlock. Sighing, he tossed the book away and got his laptop.

First he searched partly ridiculous stuff like “How to revive something dead” or “How to bring someone back from the dead” which didn’t bring him any success.

Then he searched for spiritual books and items and after an hour of internet research he finally found a shop that had such things.  

 The shop was called “Yen-Cave” and the owner of it was a self-proclaimed psychic who was only called “the Woman”.  

John only laughed at that and after a bit of scrolling he found her real name. It was Irene Adler and it was an ordinary name which made John only shake his head.  

He wrote down the address and this said name and put it in the pocket of his jeans. That was the best place where Sherlock wouldn’t accidently find it.  

Or that was what John hoped anyway. He didn’t want him to know that he was going to do some research to find out if there was any way to bring him back.  

He had seen the pain in his eyes when they talked about it and he wouldn’t want to get his hopes up only to crush them again eventually.

John decided to go there the next day. Just as he grabbed the phone to order some food it rang which nearly caused John to let it fall.

It was Lestrade who said that he had news and that he would come over to tell them.

An hour later said detective stood in the living room. He looked expectantly at John because Sherlock was nowhere to see. John chewed on his lips and shrugged. Then he called.

“Sherlock? Lestrade is here. Could you come?”

Momentarily he appeared next to John who flinched. 

“Was that necessary?”

Sherlock ignored him and asked Lestrade what he had found instead.

After a bit of hesitation at the atmosphere in the room Lestrade began.

“Okay… so I found your Liam Bellamy and everything you said about his wife and daughter is correct. He was a zoo veterinarian back then and that explains how he could get that equipment and how he could be such a good shooter with it. Well… the problem now is that he’s no longer living here. He migrated to Africa four months after everything happened - I know pretty cliché-like. Mr Bellamy lives now in the city Balfour in the province Mpumalanga which is in South Africa. It’s a bloody one-horse town!”

Sherlock looked highly concentrated and after a while he spoke.

“What are you going to do?”

Lestrade laughed a dry humourless laugh.

“I’m going to Balfour. I’ll find him and get him here. He has a bar there. I’ll leave tomorrow and I don’t know how long it’ll take to get him here because he’s no longer a citizen of Britain but I’ll do my best.”

Sherlock just nodded and Lestrade said his farewells while he shot John a worried look.

After that John finally ordered some food and then went to bed. Sherlock didn’t say even one word to him.

John felt frustrated but at the same time determined. He fell asleep thinking about his mission.

That night Sherlock went again upstairs to look at John. He pressed his lips together into a line and just stared at him.

_Why did you make me think about all these things I lost and will never have again? Do you want to torture me? Hurt me? Or no… you really want me alive. But why? What would you do if I were alive? Would you take my hand like you wanted to do twice since we met? Or would you casually clap at my shoulder or put your hand on my back for confirmation that you’re still there? Or would you do more? Would you still flirt with me the way you did yesterday? Or wouldn’t you dare it because you would know that it could lead to something? Would you even find me worth flirting or would you find me boring because I would be human and no longer a mystical creature._

_I would almost be normal- a normal breathing human. I would need food and liquids and even sleep to survive. Would you think that’s boring? I lied to you today. There are so many things I would like to do if I could be alive again. I would do anything to be alive again- even if it was just for one hour or one minute. I just want to touch you. It doesn’t matter where. I want my fingers in that ash blond hair of yours. I want to feel this ridiculous jumper on my skin. I want to feel your hands that have killed and healed. One minute would be enough. I would cherish that minute. I would consume you. Every filament, every atom of you would be mine. I never felt an urge to have someone. To claim someone. But you make me think that way. What have you done to me? I don’t know if I would want to give that feeling up again._

* * *

 

_10 months and 10 days before …  
_

 

_Grace._

“For God’s sake, Cody! Stop chewing that damn gum like a…”

The sound of a slammed car door covered her last words as she dragged herself out of a tiny little white Volkswagen.

_Graceless_.

The red-haired kid on the passenger seat pouted for an instant glancing at his mother, who was heading off to the entrance of the bar. Suddenly, said Cody craved his head out of the car window and shouted: “Mom!”

His mother looked around in exasperation, crossing briefly the gaze of the man who was standing at the bar door. “Oh, Cody – can I _please_ go to the toilet for a moment? Hm? Can I?”

“Yeah, just…” Cody’s eyes widened in an attempt to look adorable. He failed. “As you’re going to the bar, buy me a Mars bar first.”

The street lights made Cody’s cheeks shine in a creepy shade of yellow. When his mother frowned and he pouted again, his face looked definitely like a cheese gâteau.

_Good Lord, this kid is the living proof that_ cheek _and_ cheese _are etymologically related._

“Cody…” she whined, frustrated. “You already ate two at the stadium twenty minutes ago. I’m definitely not buying you another one. So stay there, keep quiet and…” She was hissing now and preparing to turn away. “Don’t talk to me till we get home. It’s getting more and more stressful every time we go to the stadium on Saturdays.” She whispered furiously. “You know, you should learn from my students. They’re so much mature than you.”

Cody’s yellow cheeks turned purple and then white as a lorry passed by catching the insignificant shining of the street lights nearby.

“Well,” he mumbled and kept his voice high-pitched as he cried out. “You’re the worst mother ever!”

Grace Wilkinson’s red hair cut the air sharply as she ignored her child and turned away like the weak, trembling waste of flesh that she was.

Behind the glass door of the bar, Liam stared attentively at the child and shifted away as his mother entered the bar sighing.

He liked her when she didn’t speak. He liked everyone, as long as no word was spoken. So, when he collected his things and followed her in the ladies toilet, he did it out of pure curiosity.

He had followed her… _stalked_ her, out of curiosity. For weeks. Grace Wilkinson and her tiny red-haired family, living on the outskirts of the City. It was like looking into a well, like making a wish.

_I wish… I wish she wasn’t Grace Wilkinson. I wish she wasn’t a teacher. I wish she had saved her student – my daughter – when she burned alive, silent._

The DizZyDaiSy was a fancy bar, after all. _A bit too big for a boring quarter like this._ Full of round tables and round people and pink security cameras. Except for the toilet, of course.

He pretended to adjust the Seven bag on his shoulder and stared at Grace’s long hair as he entered the desert corridor leading to the toilets. She was definitely stomping and the door knob trembled when she slammed the door shut. He wished – he always did – he could make that door disappear, just like Maddie had showed him in that computer game where you can kill people without using any weapons – what was it called? _Something like “The Sins”… “The Sims”, I guess. I’ve never caught the point of it._ He wished…

_I wish she wasn’t her. I wish we could exchange lives like hospitals exchange toddlers. I wish she was different._

He wished she was…

_I wish she was nothing at all._

The knob was still warm when he held it in his gloved fist for a second. He had held it several times when he had followed Grace there to figure out how and where to keep her heartbeat from disturbing the world disorder. After each Arsenal indoor match, Grace and Cody usually spent an insufferable amount of time drinking chocolate and chattering about football, school plans, trains (they seemed to be obsessed with them), and other shades of nonsense leaning over those round tables.

_Routine kills people. And makes people kill._

The ladies toilet looked different, somehow. It took him a moment to notice the new huge bin under the sinks. It was oddly large and narrow. _Damn, looks like a coffin. It even smells like a coffin, for Christ’s sake._

It was half empty – just a handful of wet tissues and the silhouette of a brownish tampon were resting on the bright green surface of the sack covering the bottom of the bin. Oh, there was also a strange collection of coloured leaves, somehow. And slices of nails all over them.

_This place is weird._

As he settled his bag on the floor, reminding himself mentally to clean it afterwards, one of the three doors opened.

A giraffe-like woman stepped toward the sink, washed just her fingers (without wetting her palms) and left without looking around. Her brown eyes and hair lingered for a moment on the mirror before she gently closed the door.

He hummed hesitantly and scratched his eyebrow as he extracted Bixie from his bag. A kid at the zoo had called it that way a couple of months before – “the gun that makes lions soft and sleepy.” He wasn’t entirely right: the rifle didn’t contain anaesthetics, just a paralyzing substance to make aggressive animals docile and still and _soft_. Even the name of the liquid had a soft sound, somehow. _Lysthenon_.

If he had been a professional serial killer, he would have called it _Lusthenon_ just to mark the undeniably pleasant part of it. But as widowed husband and mourning father – not to mention ex long-term asylum guest – Liam Bellamy was a bit suspicious when it came to pleasure.

Bixie was the best part of it, anyway – even better than Mr. Bowtie.

A pair of white shoes squeaked on the floor when Grace Wilkinson, all messy hair and tight lips, stepped out of the cabin and seemed to look anywhere but in the mirror, till he managed to cross her gaze.

At that moment, Lana Del Rey began to whine fiercely by loudspeakers far away.

“Ms. Wilkinson…”

“Good evening!” She spoke with the unsettling enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t recognized her interlocutor at all. He felt his facial muscles contract, so he bit his upper lip to suppress the tender smile – or the grimace – that was trying to spread on his face.

“Good evening. I guess you…”

She cut him off again with a frown. “This toilet is for ladies.”

He couldn’t help smiling softly at her plain realization.

“Yes – actually, I work here. I…“

_I was trying my new automatic decalcifier. You see, Philips – from Holland. The funny old Europeans are pretty good at these things, you know._

_I was just…_

_I was just testing the new polisher._

_I was just waiting for you, you know._

“Oh, of course – sorry.”

In the corner of his eye, Liam saw the ear of his teddy-bear sneak out of the bag zip.

_I was just wondering if I should say hello to your son afterwards (Cody, right?) and bring him this teddy-bear smeared with your spit and full of cries. Your cries. But no, that would be a bit too much, wouldn’t it?_

She smiled weakly and Liam smiled back.

Once again, it was unnecessary. No one had ever been surprised before at a man with a white rifle-like thing under his arm. _There could be something with the colour white that makes you automatically trustworthy or simply not suspect._

He sniffed once, turning completely toward Grace Wilkinson.

_People are doomed._ Evolution had made the mankind weaker and weaker, burying their instincts under layers of rational explications. Unlike animals. That was a challenge worth accepting – fighting with animals. Against them and for them at the same time, trying to re-learn from them the essence of being alive.

“Oh, my apologies. May I… er, wash my hands? Or perhaps you need to…?”

“Of course, Ms. _Wilkinson_.” He stressed her surname expectantly.

_Good Lord, do I really have to do the whole job?_

She was reaching her hand for soap when realization _finally_ dawned on her.

“I’m sorry, do we…” She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Do we know each other?”

He opened his mouth to swallow the shy grin that was trying to spread on his face and to give a proper answer when she cut him off. Again.

_This woman will never die soon enough._

“You know…” (embarrassed laugh) “I’m a bit shortseeing and I’m not used to wearing my glasses when I go out. So I’m sorry if I…” She trailed off and continued rubbing her soaped hands together, seemingly trapped in her own thoughts all of a sudden.

“Don’t you worry, Ms. Wilkinson. We last met ten years ago. You were my daughter’s teacher till 3° grade, at primary school.”

“Oh, really? That must have been one of my first classes.”

Lana Del Rey began to moan pitifully in the bar when Grace Wilkinson closed the tap and turned toward the man standing beside her.

“So, you said ten years ago. Your daughter must be a pretty young lady by now, hm?”

“Yeah, _must_. Lovely girl, my Maddie. And unfortunately dead, but…” He straightened up Bixie at his hip and placed it horizontally in a casual movement. “…you know.”

He was even more surprised than her when Bixie shot her directly at her ankle. His aiming ability was getting better and better at each murder – that was marvellous and quite unsettling, truth told.

“You know?” He repeated as her figure slid rapidly on the toilet floor. “You really do know, don’t you.” He stated flatly.

He felt her urge to put her wet hands in front of her to avoid to fall on her face. Reflexive tears filled her turquoise eyes when her chin hit the dusty sink board with a loud _cletch_.

He shoved Bixie in his bag and dragged it in the second cabin. _It will definitely need a wash-up later_.

In the meanwhile, Grace Wilkinson’s cheek had crashed against the floor with a wet _pop_ that he couldn’t explain till he saw a little puddle of water under the sink. Her cheek looked fleshy and swollen pressed against the floor.

_Graceless._

He knew he had to act rapidly from that point – the main door was not locked and besides, he was supposed to suffocate her before the Lysthenon could kill her first. That would have been a great waste of energy, in that case.

He absentmindedly pulled her in the second cabin and tried to sit her on the closet lid, but she didn’t seem to be able to sit upright and slid awkwardly between the wall and the WC.

When he kicked Grace Wilkinson’s half-clothed legs to shut the cabin door, he had the strange impression he was forgetting something important.

_Of course_.

“Liam Bellamy.” He mockingly offered her a hand she couldn’t shake, paralyzed in an unnatural position as she was. For the first time since he shot her, he looked briefly into her eyes and crouched over her intertwined legs.

The animals he was used to paralyzing at work didn’t look any different, truth to say. Saliva was dripping out of the corners of her mouth. He felt the effort she could only make inside – the effort to clean her cheeks up, to put the seam of her skirt down to its regular position, to kick that man who was hovering over her. He felt her _feel_. He felt she was unable to react – she could just feel the pain in her legs and the cold humid surface of the toilet floor.

He shook his head.

He couldn’t tell if she remembered him or not – she couldn’t even speak, after all – neither scream. That was the whole point of it, after all. If she expected him to perform a great monologue pointing out every single reason why he was killing her, well – he would have disappointed her. He was too keen to live his life outside of a prison to risk his freedom for a twenty-minute narration in a bar toilet.

_My life is worth it. My life counts._

That was the only thing he had learned back then in The Clinic, in group therapy, seven months after Maddie’s death.

As he got Mr. Bowtie out of the bag, he almost saw Grace Wilkinson squirm. Panic and triumph ( _triumph?_ ) lit her eyes as she stared at the teddy-bear he was holding in his hand and recognized the murderer she had heard of on telly.

_Yes, I was even mentioned twice on BBC One. My life really counts, you see?_

Just when he pushed Mr. Bowtie’s fuzzy head in her mouth, he realized what kind of triumph had spread on her face (if she could have moved her facial muscles, of course).

He froze.

The door of the cabin nearby was being locked again. Someone was there. A rescuer?

_Not now._

A thin splashing sound was coming from there. A woman. In the cabin nearby. With her stupid bloody piss.

He held his breath.

_Not. Now._

The woman coughed.

_Not yet._

He grabbed Mr. Bowtie and pushed it further in Grace Wilkinson’s throat. He felt her internally squirm and silently cry like a puppy.

Keeping it there was pointless. He stood up and flushed the water with his fingertips, not really knowing what to do next.

_Just like Maddie. Internally crying out. Always mute, forever voiceless._

He opened and closed random pockets of his bag with his right hand to simulate the sound of sanitary towels and tissues and toilet paper rolling.

After an instant, he bent down again while The Woman Nearby was preoccupied with unlocking the door. As the water began to flow in the sink out there, Grace Wilkinson was suddenly gone without changing her features.

_‘Twas about time._

He flushed the water again and looked down at the body he had had to destroy to make this graceless world Grace-less.

A door squeaked outside and closed hastily.

When he dragged his bag in front of the sink and closed the cabin door behind him, he hummed and patted a piece of paper on the white wood over the knob. The relief of being finished with his murders made him sigh and shiver at the same time.

_Almost finished._

He rummaged in his bag to check his phone and read again the address he had noted in his digital agenda. Where that annoying, self-proclaimed detective lived.

_Hopefully, my last victim._

At that moment, Lana Del Rey seemed to choke on her spit in her song.

He patted again the piece of paper he had pressed on the cabin door and covered his teeth with his lips, thoughtfully.

The bag was strangely heavy on his shoulder, the marker huge in his hand as he wrote on the green post-it pressed on the cabin door and simultaneously .

“Out of (dis)order. Please have the good grace to stay back.”

 


	7. Reaching reversal points

When John woke up the next day, Sherlock was nowhere to be seen again. He remembered that he had to call the mental hospital on some point to let them know that he wouldn’t come. So he did just that and then made himself tea and breakfast and went to get a cab for visiting the shop.

As soon as he got out of the cab he stood in front of an impressive looking shop. It had a glass front where you could see some books which you could buy. None of the books seemed special. Over all of it was “Yen-Cave” in massive letters written in dark red. John squared his shoulders and got in.

In the shop it was almost dark. The lights were dim and John wondered for a moment how people should properly read in here. He wandered through the shop and saw magic candles, clothes, weapons and books. John had no idea where to start. He went to the books and sighed overstrained. Then suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. He looked at it to see dark red polished nails. John’s eyes followed the nails to the arm and finally to the face of a woman.

 The woman had dark long hair which hung loose on her back. Her lips which were currently formed into a smile were painted in a colour that could only be described as blood red. She wore a black dress which left nothing to imagination. It was skin tight and ended just above her knees. Her shoes looked almost dangerous and had ridiculously high heels.

John knew instantly that this must be “The woman” – the owner of the shop. Her smile made him feel uneasy- it was the smile of a predator who just found its next victim. He looked back at her hand which was still on his shoulder and then back at her. She took the hint and let the hand drop. Then she spoke with a smooth voice that matched her smile.

“How can I help you? What is it that you truly desire?”

He had to swallow loudly. Before he could answer she spoke again, now looking concentrated.

“I can feel it. Wait… you have a spiritual aura. You currently met a spiritual creature… oh wait… you have feeling for this creature… oh…oh…you’re in love with it.”

John’s eyes went wide.

“What? No… I’m not… I’m not in love with it!”

She just waved it aside.

“Of course you’re.”   

John clenched his fists, took a deep breath and just glared at her.

“So… tell me was it a ghost of a former loved one? Or no… wait… oh that’s interesting. You didn’t know that ghost when it was alive right? Oh, that’s good. Is she at least pretty? Tell me.”

John now pressed his lips together. He didn’t know how that woman could know all these things but he wouldn’t tell her more.

Then her eyes went wide and she looked like a delighted child who just discovered a treasure full of candies. 

“Uh… it’s a guy right? This is getting better and better.”

He was frowning at her and she was seriously giggling now. He waited till she sobered enough to talk normally again.

“So…to be clear… you fell in love with a ghost? And what do you want from me now?”  

He laughed a humourless laugh.

“Oh- so there are things that you don’t know already?”  

She rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Oh don’t be such a fun killer. It’s not my fault that you’re an open book. You wear every emotion right on your face. It’s not that hard.”

John sighed.

“Okay… well I was thinking about… if there could be any possibility to get him back to life?”

She was frowning now but looked concentrated again.

“Sure.”

John couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“Really? Are you sure? What…? How…can I do that?”

“You know… such things aren’t easy… and it definitely could only happen under certain requirements.”

“Sure, sure… which ones?”

“For starters… his body has to be intact. Otherwise you can’t get his soul back in it. You know how long it takes until a body decays?”

He nodded.

“Yes, I’m a doctor. It takes one till two years. He only died ten months ago so we should be good.”

“Oh that’s cute. A doctor who not only helps the living but also the dead.”

John ignored her and she went on.

 “It’ll also have consequences of course.”

“And what would they be?”

“Hm…as you may know every magic comes with a price. And so… you’ll have to pay just that.”

“Price? What prize? Money?”

She laughed a mocking laugh in return.

“Oh, sweetheart of course not. This kind of rituals we’re talking about is way older than money. You’ll demand life and that’s what you’ll have to give in return.”

“A life? Do I have to kill someone for this? Do I have to kill myself for this?”

She looked at him intensively.

“You really would do that if it was required wouldn’t you? That’s odd. Why would you do that?”

He ignored her.

“So?”

Now she seemed annoyed.

“No… of course not. Think about it- I said it won’t be easy. You’ll need the essence of life.”

“And what would that be?”

“Blood- of course. It’ll require your blood. But now comes the tricky part.”

“Oh now?”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Yes, be aware what you’re truly willing to pay. The one who’ll perform the ritual will be bound to the former dead one for eternity. This means if the performer dies someday, the other one will die too. Also the process is irrevocable.” 

“That’s all?”

She looked unbelieving.

“Do you really think it’s worth it? I mean if I knew that someone holds my hands in his life- I would lock that person in somewhere. So that I could make sure that this person is safe and alive.”

 John smiled.

“Yes, he would never do such thing. I’m sure. So…where can I find the ritual?”

“You know that you’ll render yourself liable to prosecution for digging a body out of his grave?” 

“I know. Now please show me everything I’ll need for this.”

* * *

 

When John got back with a heavy bag full of supplies he finally found Sherlock sitting in his usual chair.

John put the bag on the ground and sighed.

“Sherlock, I know that you’re angry with me but I really want to tell you something.”

Sherlock frowned.

“I’m not angry with you…I’m… never mind. What do you want to tell me?”

John smiled and told Sherlock about the shop and Irene. After he finished Sherlock who hadn’t once interrupted him finally spoke.

“And…how would you perform this ritual?”

“Um… I would have to cut me with that dagger and then drop my blood onto your body and also in your mouth. It requires a lot of blood. Oh and while I would be doing that I would have to read the text from the scroll. It was translated in Latin. Good thing that I’m a doctor.”

John chuckled weakly while Sherlock just looked at him sceptically. 

“John… you can’t possible seriously consider doing this.”

John frowned. 

“Why not? It would be worth a try.”

“How do you know that this isn’t just a fraud?”

“She did know everything about us without me telling one thing!”

“Okay, but I could do that too.”

 “Okay… but just assuming that it would work… wouldn’t that be what you want?”

“John…”

“No, just answer. Yes or no.”

Sherlock looked at him sadly for a few moments then he sighed defeated.

“Yes.”

“Then it’s settled.”

“Wait. I thought we expect that my last case is holding me here. So…when the case is closed… according to this theory I should see ‘the light’ and go into the afterworld. What’s then?”

For a moment John froze because he had seriously forgotten about that. 

“Um…I guess then there would be nothing I could do for you.”

Sherlock nodded and looked thoughtful.

 “Okay… then I suggest that we wait until the case is closed. Then we’ll know if that was the thing that was holding me here. If I’m still here after it…I would… agree to try the ritual.” 

John pursed his lips but nodded.

“Okay. I have to be honest- I hope that you won’t leave after the case.”

Sherlock beamed at him.

“Why?”

John laughed a bit.

“Are you serious? Can you imagine how wonderful it would be to have you here in human form?”

Sherlock was speechless. He needed a few long embarrassing moments until he could stutter an answer.

“I…really? I mean yes. Thank you.”

Now John was beaming at him and gave him a fond smile which Sherlock hesitantly returned. He knew that if he was a human he would be blushing, so he was thankful that he wasn’t able to do that. Not yet-at least.

* * *

 

From that day they avoided that topic and just waited for Lestrade. They talked about everything and nothing. One evening John decided to play a game. He wanted to learn more about Sherlock and so he decided that they could ask each other alternating questions. After a bit of efforts at persuasion Sherlock agreed. 

They sat in their chairs and John began with a cup of tea in his hand.

“Um... what is your favourite colour?”

Sherlock laughed.

“Really? That is the best you can do? Okay… blue. And yours?”

“Same.”

 He gestured Sherlock to ask something.

“Okay…I assume you want easy questions at first. So… what was your favourite subject at school?”

John raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh- you can’t deduce that?”

 “I could but I think that you want to tell me.”

John laughed.

“Well… it was biology and sport. Yours?”

 “Chemistry and music. Your turn.”

 “Okay…usually I would ask something like first kiss and stuff… but we already talked about that. So…favourite animal?”

 Sherlock narrowed his eyes but answered.

“Hm… I like dogs. And you?”

“Me, too.”

Sherlock looked for a moment if he was calculating something then he fixed his gaze at John.

“So, when and with whom was your first kiss?”

John chuckled.

“Um… hang on… that was when I was elven or twelve if I remember it right. It was the girl that lived next door. She was at the same age and her name was…Lilly I think. They moved away a few months after this and I never saw her again.”

 “Okay. Interesting. Now you.” 

Sherlock was lost in his own thoughts now.

John was curious about what was going on in that man’s head.

“Are you able to do a handstand?”

That seemed to bring him back.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I…yes I’m able to do a handstand. And you?”

John laughed proudly.

“Yes, yes I am.”

Sherlock joined his laughing and shook his head.  

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m not. Do you want me to prove it?”

 Sherlock just kept laughing and so John stood up and just did a handstand at the wall.

 Sherlock was suddenly like under a spell and his laughter died. While John was doing his handstand, his jumper and undershirt were sliding so there was just John’s bare belly. Sherlock was grateful that John had pinched his eyes together in utter concentration so he couldn’t see him staring at him. It was muscular but not too much. There was no six-pack or something like that but it was obvious that John was fit. Sherlock had to swallow hard and tear his gaze away until John was back at his chair.

“So…it’s your turn.”

Sherlock cleared his throat and avoided John’s eyes.

“Right…um…”

 Then suddenly his eyes fixed on John’s so that he felt a bit anxious.

“When and with whom was your first time?”

John choked on his tea that he was just drinking.

 “What? Really?”

He waited but Sherlock just crossed his arms and looked at him.

“Well…all right. I was seventeen…. It was with my girlfriend Alison at the time. She was sixteen and we were together for… five months I think. She was really nice.” 

Sherlock made a frustrated groan.

John raised his eyebrows and Sherlock just scowled.

 After a while Sherlock gestured him to ask a question.

“Um… okay…oh I know one… your favourite food?”

Sherlock just raised one eyebrow.

“I barely ate. You know that. Just transport.”

“Yes, I know. But this doesn’t mean that you don’t have a favourite food.”

Sherlock sighed.

“Well… I loved sweet stuff. Like biscuits.”

John smiled at him and he smiled back.

“And yours?”

John shrugged.

“I don’t know actually… I love fish and chips.”

Sherlock started laughing.

“What is it?”

“It’s just you’re such a typical Briton! Just like out of a textbook!”

John joined his laughing. He was just glad that he was no longer in a bad mood.

 Then he gestured Sherlock that it was his turn but said man just shook his head good-humoured.

“I think we answered enough questions for today.”

John looked at his watch and nodded. It was almost midnight now.

“Right… I think I’m going to bed. We should do that again. That was fun.”

Sherlock just smirked and made a vague gesture with his hand.

John stood up and put his cup into the sink, and then he hesitated. He had a presumption why Sherlock had reacted this frustrated earlier. He thought a moment about how he could approach that subject again but then he decided that it would be the best just to say it. If he was wrong then… he didn’t want to think about this possibility.

So he just went back to Sherlock and stood before him. Sherlock looked at him with a curious expression.

John cleared his throat.

“Um… okay…I believe I know why you reacted so frustrated when I told you about my first kiss and my first time.”

 “I wasn’t frustrated! I-“

 John cut him off.

“I think you should know that I had also a few boyfriends in my life. I mean it was nothing serious. But none of my previous relationships were. I mean I never loved someone. Not really. I mean…okay… that’s it… I think. Good night.”

He avoided Sherlock’s gaze and nodded and turned around as fast as he could. He almost ran to his room.

Meanwhile in the living room sat a really dumfound looking ghost with a gaping mouth.

The night went on and Sherlock was still sitting rooted to his chair.

_He said previous. PREVIOUS. Was it unconscious? Maybe he didn’t mean it that way. But he avoided my gaze and seemed really nervous. One day I think I finally get him and know everything important and the next day he does something totally unexpected and so I need to change my room of John H. Watson in my mind palace again. On the first look you would think that he’s the most ordinary man living – the typical man next door. But then you look deeper and you see the doctor, the soldier and the man between all these. The most loyal man who isn’t perfect in any way but would offer everything of himself to the one he cares about. The man who makes me laugh and makes me hope. Hope for a possible future. I don’t understand him. And I hate not understanding. I need more data. More data about the man who befriended a ghost._

That night John dreamed about pale skin pressed against his and a familiar baritone voice moaning his name. He caressed the smooth skin under him while saying the name of his lover. He kissed the pink nipples and moved slowly upwards until he kissed his impossible long neck. The moaning grew needier and so he choked it with his lips. He put his hands into the dark curls then a hand sneaked to his hardness. John gasped and so a mouth was pressed to his ear. The voice only said two words.

“Please John.”

John woke up with a start. His alarm bell had put an end to the dream but his body wasn’t finished yet. He groaned and went to the shower to deal with it.

When John prepared to go downstairs he hoped it wouldn’t be awkward because of what he had said. His dream didn’t help but he was the only one who knew about this. Or so he hoped at least. 

He went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Then he flinched as he heard the baritone.

“Morning, John.”

He avoided his gaze and kept preparing his breakfast. 

“Good morning.”

Sherlock was still standing in front of the kitchen counter so he couldn’t ignore him any longer and so he bit his lips and let his gaze wander until he looked into Sherlock’s face.

He was smirking. And it wasn’t a normal smirking. It seemed smug. 

John looked anxiously at him and the ghost had the nerve to give him a knowing look.

John felt like he was hit with something. His eyes widened and he froze.

“No…”

Sherlock just looked amused which only let John’s horror grow.

“No! Please don’t tell me that you…”

The ghost just laughed wholeheartedly. 

“I don’t sleep, John. And… I heard my name.”

John felt like he was going to faint. That was embarrassing. He looked apologetically at Sherlock who just winked at him. His breath was caught. 

But before he could say something, the phone rang.  

It was Lestrade. He was back -with Liam.

 


	8. Becoming his living-self

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter is a very small Doctor Who reference- congratulation to everyone who finds it :D

It was now two weeks after Lestrade had left.  

Sherlock and John had both been successful in pushing the subject aside.

 Now they both saw themselves confronted with the possibility that Sherlock would be gone as soon as the case would be closed.

The day after Lestrade called, he visited them to tell them what was going to happen. 

Liam Bellamy was guilty in eight cases of death. His court trial would be in two days.

When Lestrade had left, John and Sherlock just looked at each other; neither of them knew what to say.

John decided it was time to return to work and so he called his workplace to let them know that he would come back. 

He didn’t miss Sherlock’s sad gaze resting on him while he spoke with the clinic.

They both didn’t really speak with each other, both lost in their own thoughts.

The next day they both acted like nothing was going to happen, they talked about meaningless stuff and avoided the topic. 

They both knew that the other one was just wearing a facade of fake cheeriness. They both felt depressed but neither of them wanted to show it.

These facades dropped the day before the trial. 

As soon as John came downstairs after another sleepless night, their gazes full of infinite sadness met. They just looked at each other for a few minutes, neither of them in need of words. When John’s eyes became watery and he had to swallow hard, he broke the gaze and went to the kitchen to make himself breakfast. Sherlock’s eyes followed him the whole time.

When he had forced a few bits of toast in his stomach, he took his cup and sat across from Sherlock in his chair.

After a silent while John broke it.

 “If you’re going I’ll miss you terribly. I don’t know how I’ll…”

He couldn’t talk further. His voice had broken at the end and now he was fighting against the upcoming sobs in his throat.

Sherlock was watching John who was now wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his jumper.

The jumper he had hated so much at the beginning was now catching the tears that he was the reason for.

 The way John wiped his eyes was so precious.

 It was the movement of a child and so it should make John look weaker but it did the opposite.

 It showed the man who wasn’t afraid to show emotions.  

A trait of that Sherlock envied him.  

At the moment he couldn’t cry but he was sure that he would also show no emotions if he was human.

It was never his thing. Showing what he felt.

 At the moment he felt like he was stabbed again – in fact multiple times. The feeling became worse the longer he watched John.  

He took a shaky breath and tried to squelch the feeling that seemed to overwhelm him.

He didn’t have himself under control as he was used to. That was the main reason why the next words escaped him when John’s wet eyes met his.

“I don’t want to go, John.”

* * *

 

The next day they both waited anxiously for the call from Lestrade who would tell them the verdict.

Sherlock was pacing back and forth in the living room while John was drinking cup after cup of tea. He hadn’t felt this tense since he had woken up at night because of the noises. The irony in that let him burst out laughing.

That made Sherlock stop mid-walking. He shot John a curious look. When John had sobered, he asked him why he was laughing and when he had explained him, Sherlock’s corner of the mouth lifted.

He just stayed there, standing in front of John and smiled at him. They both smiled at each other for a moment until suddenly the phone rang.

John nearly jumped because of the sudden sound. With one last glance at Sherlock he answered it.

Lestrade told him that Liam got a life-sentence.  John gave that information to Sherlock who just nodded.

 After that Sherlock went into his thinking pose in his chair and John didn’t dare to leave the house. 

He couldn’t stand the thought of coming home only to find it empty with no hope of seeing his ghost again.

So they both waited and waited one day at a time.

After one week John decided he could go to work without the possibility that Sherlock would be gone when he would come back.  

When he came back that day Sherlock was indeed still there, pacing while muttering with himself. 

John watched it for a moment grinning. Then he cleared his throat to get his attention.

Sherlock stopped the pacing and started walking towards John while talking.

“Ah, you’re home! Great! Now make yourself a cup of tea and sit down! We have a lot to discuss!”

He stood barely an inch away from him and for a moment John felt paralysed by the intense gaze. Then he hesitantly started doing what he had said. 

When he had sat down Sherlock continued with his pacing.

“So… now listen. It’s been one week now, John. One week! I think it is safe to say that there won’t be a light or something similarly ridiculous for me. So… I started to think about the thing you mentioned… the ritual.  However I still think that you’re crazy for wanting it but so I have to admit that I’m even madder than you are because I want it to.” 

He stopped his pacing and stayed standing in front of John staring at him with a glimmer in his eyes that had never been there before.

“So… what do you think? Do you want to dig my body up to splatter it with your blood and then to revive it?”

 John stood up with more speed than he thought himself capable of.

“Oh God, yes.”

* * *

 

One day later after John’s work they sat down to plan everything.

“So… when should we do it?”

John went through his calendar.

“I have a day off on Friday… you know how absurd this situation is?”

John had to laugh and Sherlock nodded and chuckled.

“Okay, so Friday it is. But… look I think we should consider everything… what is if… you won’t remember a thing of your time as a ghost?”

Sherlock shot him a ‘really?’ look and sighed.

“Okay… if it works at all and I really awake again… but with no memories… I trust myself enough to make the right deductions at that moment. I mean… I would be in a coffin, wearing a suit that had seen better days with a filthy blond man with a shovel looming over me. Oh and I would have blood all over me and even worse… in my mouth.” 

John chuckled while Sherlock continued, smirking himself.

“Oh it would obviously be interesting to see to what conclusion I would come. But I wouldn’t be able to make that experiment without memories… oh forget it… where were I? Oh right… I don’t think that this will happen. Don’t worry. Or worry about you! In the worst case you get caught and locked up while I remain dead.”

 John frowned but looked determined.

“I’ll make it. I’ll bring you back into life.”

Sherlock smiled but didn’t answer. 

“So what will you need? A shovel? A rope? Oh and obviously you only can do it at night. Everyone would get suspicious if they saw a man starting digging.”

John grinned and nodded.

“I already thought about that. I’ll go to the graveyard at four and they close it at five… so until then I’ll just wait until it’s dark and then I’ll start. I have to dig until I reach you… only then I can start the ritual. This will be exhausting. I mean how deep will that be?” 

Sherlock nodded. 

“I think it’s six feet.”

“By the way I think it would be best to bring a ladder… I mean in the best case, I’ll have to get you also up. Oh and I’ll need a portable electric drill to open the coffin.”

Sherlock nodded while John made notes.

* * *

 

Two days later the time had come. John had bought everything he would need and was packing himself a backpack with water and snacks. 

When he was ready he went to Sherlock who looked just genuinely anxious.

 He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. John understood.

“Everything will be fine. Don’t worry.”

John smiled a reassuring smile but Sherlock just pressed his lips into a line and frowned. 

“Look, do you trust me?”

Sherlock sighed and nodded.

 “Then everything will be fine. Now I have to go and you- enjoy your last hours as a ghost.”

Then he winked at Sherlock whose corners of his mouth turned up although he was still frowning.

* * *

 

John went to the graveyard and looked for Sherlock’s grave. When he found it he looked for a hiding spot nearby and sat down. 

While he was waiting for the closing of the graveyard John thought about what he was about to do.

_I’m completely mad. I mean I’m about to dig a body up and to perform a magical ritual. Bloody hell. But… if it works and he is human again… it would be worth it. Even if he wouldn’t want to see me again after this. I mean it is possible that he would insist that I move out. He never said that we’re friends or something like that. But it’s still worth it. I just want him to be happy and alive again. Yes._

He nodded to himself, determined. 

When it was time, he looked carefully around to make sure that he was definitely alone. Then he walked to the grave and started digging.

After two hours he was satisfied with his work. He had dug a hole that was almost two metres deep and two metres wide.

John eyed the black coffin while he wiped the sweat off his forehead. He drank a bit of water and then grabbed his backpack and the ladder.  

Then he climbed down until he stood next to the coffin. He took a deep breath and unscrewed the coffin.

John heard his heart pounding loud in his ears. Now was the time, he would see Sherlock’s body.

With shaking hands he opened the coffin. He had to swallow hard. There was Sherlock.

His body was sunken and his skin was greyer than anything else. He was dressed in a black suit that was similar to what he was wearing as a ghost. Sherlock also wore a beige shirt and a tie which he would normally hate, John knew.  

For a moment John kept staring at the body but then he opened his backpack to get the dagger and the scroll.

John took the dagger in his left hand and slowly cut himself in his right hand so that his dominant hand wasn’t damaged. 

Then he opened the scroll and started reading the spell.

“ Mater natura,

Hoc postulo ego meum sanguinem pro dono vitae do,

Quod exanimo corpori vigorare possis.

Aer, id aspirandi cura!

Flamma, id vapora!

Terra, id defendi!

Aqua, id cum Scientia adspira!

Omnes haec tui beneficium deserviunt. ”

While he was reading he began slowly to clench his right hand over Sherlock’s body so that there was blood dropping everywhere.

 He started at his feet and worked his way to his face.

 There he opened carefully his mouth and let his blood drop into it. 

That was it. John just stared at the body in front of him.

Nothing happened. He let his shoulders drop. 

John felt an irrational anger in himself. He hadn’t realised how much he had hoped that everything would work.

His eyes started tearing against his will and he tossed the supplies into the dirt.

Then he fell onto his knees and just let the tears come.

* * *

 

Sherlock was pacing in the living room.

_He’s gone for too long now. Something is wrong. It didn’t work. Or worse John got caught and is now locked up and will never come home. Home? When did I start seeing it as his home? Although I would go as far as to say that this is our home. I never told him that. And I probably never will now. Great, great, great just_ f _antasmagorique!_

Suddenly he had to stop pacing. He felt something. This alone was really astonishing but his whole body started to prickle – exactly the same feeling as when a limp is asleep and is waking up slowly. Only that is was at his whole body.

Sherlock lifted his fingers and looked at them but nothing looked different. Then the prickling got worse. It felt like about a million ants were crawling over his whole body. This was getting uncomfortable. Suddenly he realized that he couldn’t move anymore. He was paralysed. He could only move his eyes. Then there was a feeling that he hadn’t felt for a long time. Fear.

Then he vanished without doing anything.

* * *

 

John was still on his knees when suddenly something started happening.

He didn’t even notice it at first but the body was filling itself. 

Slowly everything that was sunken in got fuller until it looked like a sleeping person except for the greyish skin.

But then even this changed. Very slowly the skin became a normal skin tone-still very pale but John knew that this was Sherlock’s usual skin colour. Then even the lips started becoming pinkish.

John was frozen. He didn’t know what to do. Hesitantly he lifted two fingers to put them on the neck to feel if there was a pulse. His fingers were shaking. That was embarrassing. 

He put them on Sherlock’s skin and tried not to think about the fact that he was now touching Sherlock for the first time except for when he had opened his mouth. 

There was no pulse. John let a breath go he didn’t realized he had held.

He let his fingers where they were and waited.

Slowly the body under them became warmer, before that they had been inhumanly cold. 

John frowned and stared at Sherlock, putting all of his willpower into finding a movement.

Then suddenly Sherlock jerked and gasped for air. 

Meanwhile his eyes flew open and he almost started hyperventilating.

 He was breathing like he had been too long underwater.

But the main point was that he was indeed breathing.

John had jumped back at all this and now he was frozen.

Slowly he dared to step closer to the coffin where Sherlock was still lying. 

He looked into it and there was indeed a really panicked looking Sherlock. His eyes moved wildly like he wanted to look at everything at once.

 Then his gaze settled on John. He stared at him with wide eyes. 

John cleared his throat.  

“Sherlock? Do you remember me?...I’m John…”

 Sherlock winced at the words like in pain and squinted his eyes.  

John really didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if he could touch him. So he tried again.

“Sherlock? Please. Please tell me something. I don’t know how I can help you.”

He waited for a few moments and then Sherlock slowly opened his eyes again and opened his mouth. The words that came out of it where nothing more than a whisper-his voice rough.

“Everything hurts. It’s like every muscle in my body is cramping. And my skin…is so sore like I had sunburn on my whole body. And everything is just too much. Too loud, too bright. Help me, John.”

With that he lost his consciousness.

“Damn it!”

John had no idea how he should bring Sherlock home now.

He put his hands into his hair and considered everything. Then he finally found a solution.

John grabbed the shovel and started digging again. He dug something like a talus out of the hole.

 When he finished he panted and drank the rest of his water. With one final look at Sherlock who was still unconscious, he stepped out of the grave.

Half an hour later the blond man came back with a wheelbarrow. He stepped back into the grave only to notice that nothing had changed.

John sighed and grabbed Sherlock.

He put his arms under his armpits and pulled him out of his coffin and grave while walking backwards.

“You’re way heavier than you look.”

With one last pull he dropped him into the wheelbarrow.

 John watched Sherlock full of worry. He was alive now that much was clear but he had been miserable. Maybe this would never go away and he would have to live in pain forever. John didn’t know if he could live with that guilt.

He packed everything in his backpack and started to push the wheelbarrow to his car that he had wisely rented.

Arriving he put Sherlock onto the backseat and drove home where he dropped him onto the couch.

He didn’t know what to do. Sherlock was breathing evenly but he didn’t wake up. 

John didn’t want to let him out of his sight although he was in desperate need for a shower.

With one final sigh he grabbed a blanket, put it over Sherlock and then get one for himself while he was sitting down in his chair that he turned so that he could watch Sherlock.  

* * *

 

Everything hurt. Literally everything. He considered for a moment if he was in hell now. But no he could feel that he was lying on a couch. His couch. He could smell his home. The smell of old furniture which he had inherited from his parents. The smell of former exploded experiments.  

But there was a smell that he had never smelled before. Tea, a really intense smell of tea. And another new smell. The smell of another human- John. 

He dared to crack his eyes open. The room was dim. That was very good for his eyes which burned. They started to tear but he didn’t want to close them again. He was alive. He was really undeniably alive and back. Admittedly he felt really bad but that was okay because this was a proof for his liveliness.

He decided to dare the next step. Moving. He forced his head to turn. He gritted his teeth at the pain. But in the end it was definitely worth it.  There was John.

John was sitting in his chair, sleeping. He was full of dirt and sweat and Sherlock could genuinely say that he never saw someone who was more beautiful.

This man brought him back and liked him for inexplicable reasons. For him he would fight against the pain, he decided. He took a deep breath and forced his body to sit.

It took embarrassingly long to achieve that and Sherlock was panting in the end. But he was proud of himself. 

His senses were clearly in overdrive modus and his muscles and skin were new that’s why they were this bad.

He was a man of science and a genius. He could handle that.  

Sherlock let his gaze wander through his living room and ended at John.

He needed help, he knew that. He wasn’t able to stand alone, let alone walk. With all of his power he spoke.

“John. Wake up.”

There was no reaction which made him a bit angry. 

“John!”

John startled and almost fell out of the chair.

This made Sherlock smile.

The other man just stared at him for a while until he recovered and just looked worried.

“How are you feeling?”

That made Sherlock almost chuckle but he winced before it could come out.

“Not well. I mean I already told you. My muscles are clearly cramping and my skin is sore. And everything is too bright, too loud and smells too much. It’s obvious that my senses are overloaded.”

John looked sad and really guilty which confused Sherlock.

“What is it? Why are you looking like a kicked puppy?”

“What? I’m not looking like… It’s just… I’m sorry. I mean if I hadn’t brought you back you wouldn’t have this pain and stuff.”

Sherlock’s eyes grew wide. He sometimes couldn’t believe this man.

“You’re an idiot. I would be still dead. This is fantastic. I’m alive, John! Listen to me! I’m alive! I think I have never been that happy to be in pain!”

John smiled a bit.

“You mean it?”

Sherlock smiled back.

“Of course, I do. And now please get me a mirror. I want to see how I look.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the spell in english:   
> Mother Nature,   
> Hereby I’m giving you my blood for the gift of life,   
> Which you may give to this lifeless body.   
> Air, let it breathe!   
> Fire, make it warm!   
> Earth, keep it safe!  
> Water, have it infused with knowledge!   
> Everything underlies your mercy.


	9. Being alive

John laughed wholeheartedly and got Sherlock the mirror. He studied himself for a long while.

“I’m going to kill Mycroft.”

 John was perplexed.

“What? That’s your brother right? Why?”

He couldn’t help laughing at Sherlock’s angry face.

“It’s not funny! Look what I’m wearing! He knows that I detest ties! Detest, John! And the colour! Horrifying!”

“Hey! I like beige! I often wear it!”

 Sherlock just gave him an unimpressed look and continued staring at himself at the mirror in disgust.

John gave up and decided to just drop the topic.

“Um…what do you want to do? How sore is your skin? Do you think that you could take a bath or something like that?”

Sherlock shrugged and eyed John with raised eyebrows.

“What?”

Sherlock grinned.

“I think it’s obvious that you’re in greater need of a cleaning than me. And don’t look at me like that. I’m fine. You can take a shower and come back and I’ll still be fine. So go.”

John was unsure but the other man gave him a pointed look and so he went to the shower.

There he made everything as quick as possible which wasn’t hard for him because it was still in his habits from his army days.

As he came back into the living room he found Sherlock indeed exactly where he had left him which only showed how badly he could move.

“You look much better. Now fill the bathtub and help me into the bathroom.”

 “Didn’t you forget something?”

Sherlock looked genuinely confused.

“I meant ‘please’.”

Sherlock just snorted at that and so John rolled his eyes but went to help him.

He took a few steps until he stood in front of him and then he looked helpless at the other man.

“Where can I touch you? I mean I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sherlock frowned but lifted his arms and gestured John to pull which he did.

Teeth clenching he made it into a standing position. He was breathing hard.

“We could wait a few moments until you’re ready to walk?”

Sherlock just shook his head determined and so John took the steps with him. It took them almost twenty minutes until they reached the bathroom where John made Sherlock sit on the toilet lid.  

He started to fill the bathtub with water and turned to Sherlock who just looked exhausted.

“Do you want me to help you? I mean with the clothes?”

Sherlock frowned for a moment and then his eyes widened.

“Clothes. John. I have no clothes beside them! “

“Oh, that’s true. Um… I could give you something of mine? I mean they would be too short but better than nothing right?”

Sherlock nodded.

“Um okay… but what’s with helping now?”

Sherlock nodded again and John squatted down in front of him.

He started with the tie which he gently removed and the other one stared at it like it was going to bite him. Then he removed the suit jacket. Sherlock hissed a bit when he had to stretch his arms for it.

By that time the bathtub was full so John shut it off and then locked his eyes with the man in front of him. He wanted to make sure that it was truly okay for him and so he waited until the other one nodded again.

Then he started slowly to open the buttons on the shirt. When he reached the lower abdomen he hesitated.

“Isn’t here somewhere the point where you were stabbed?”

“Yes, right here.”

Sherlock opened his shirt wider and pointed at one spot. They both looked wide eyed at the scar that was now there. 

“That’s interesting. I wonder if there’s a matching one on my back.”

John shuddered a bit at the thought where this scar came from.

“We’re about to find out.”

At John’s tone Sherlock let his gaze wander over the other man. He seemed distressed.  

He couldn’t quite figure out what was that distressing to John.  

He thought that it might be his awakening but that seemed illogical because he had been really happy to see him alive.  

So maybe it was him being in pain. But that also seemed ridiculous because of the fact that he was fine.  

He had shuddered when he had mentioned his stab wounds, so maybe he didn’t like the thought of what had happened to him.  

That seemed interesting to Sherlock but he couldn’t concentrate on that for long because John was removing his shirt.  

He was touching him in the progress.  

That was almost too much for Sherlock’s brain to progress.

 Although it was nothing sexual about this or it shouldn’t be, he felt John’s gaze on him and that let him shiver. 

“Ah here. You were right.”

Sherlock needed a moment until he understood what John was meaning. 

His scar on his back. He just nodded as an answer. 

Then they both looked at each other because now they became aware of what would come next.

 The trousers.

Sherlock froze and just looked helpless at John who looked uncomfortable himself.

 Then John stood up and murmured something that sounded like “Alright.” and then avoiding the other man’s gaze started opening the belt and then the trousers.  

Sherlock avoided looking down and tried painfully to think of something disgusting like Mycroft naked but then John touched his legs to get them out of the trousers and so his mind filled with John.

He was aware that he was standing now in front of John only in his pants and so he tried to force his body under control as John was about to slide his pants down.

 He felt his breath at his crotch and that was it.

 His eyes snapped down and he felt it even before it was visible.  

He was getting an erection. He was just back in life and wished he could die again.

 Preferably right now.

He avoided John’s gaze and clenched his teeth.  

John was staring at Sherlock and tried to process what had just happened. 

In front of him was Sherlock whose face was redder than anything else with an erection. 

He decided not to mention it and grabbed Sherlock and guided him into the bathtub. When he was covered with water he turned to leave him alone.

“Call me when you need help or when you want out. I’m going to get some clothes for you.”

Sherlock didn’t answer and waited until he was alone. Then he let a breath go he didn’t know he had been holding.

_Well that was embarrassing. I should only feel pain and shouldn’t be able to…I mean at least now we know that this works again._

He laughed at his own thoughts. Then his mind snapped back to the moment where he had felt John’s breath because his face had been right in front of it.

He couldn’t restrain a moan. His eyes snapped open. He hadn’t even realised he had closed them. His erection was stubbornly still there but he refused to ruin the water he was momentarily in.

So he decided to try to move his legs and arms which brought him enough pain that after a while his problem was solved.

John cursed himself as he looked through is clothes to find something for Sherlock to wear.

He was a doctor after all. But he hadn’t acted like one. 

_Why did I stare at his crotch?! I’m a doctor! I’m a fucking doctor! I should have just put his pants down and acted professional. But oh what did I do? I acted like a freaking teenager and just stared at his penis! Great! Just great! He even told me that he’s a virgin so of course he would be sensitive down there. So it’s no wonder that he had an erection. He was so embarrassed. I bet he won’t even look at me after that. Maybe I should apologize? But that would make everything even more awkward._

John sighed and kept looking through his clothes.

Sherlock felt that the warm water was helping for his cramping muscles. They started to hurt less.

But his skin was still burning like hell. He wondered when John would come or if he would even come back.  

One moment later a really flustered looking John was poking his head into the room.

“Is everything okay? I’ve found some clothes for you.”

“It’s fine. I just would like to go out of the water- it’s starting to become cold.”

“Okay, wait. I’ll help you.”

John went in and put the clothes onto the toilet lid. Then he grabbed the towel and stood in front of the bathtub.

He held his hands to Sherlock and waited until he grabbed them so he could pull him out of the water. After that he hurriedly gave Sherlock the big towel so that he could cover himself.

They both didn’t know what to say, so John helped him out of the bathtub in silence.

Sherlock rubbed himself dry as far as he could and then eyed the clothes. It was a sleeping shirt and pyjama trousers – both in blue. He smiled at that, remembering the conversation they had had about their favourite colours.

He cleared his throat.

“Would you help me getting dressed? I mean I understand if you would rather not after…”

John was watching him. He seemed really uncomfortable and that he even asked showed him in how much pain he still was.

“Of course.”

He dressed him and this time nothing unexpected happened.

“So… and now…should I bring you to the bedroom?”

“You mean Mycroft’s room.”

“What?”

“It’s his room. You were sleeping in my room.”

“Why have you never said anything?”

Sherlock shrugged although he winced at the pain.

“It had no use. I didn’t need it.”

“But you need it now. Should we change rooms? I mean I could get my stuff into the other room.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll survive sleeping in his room.”

“Okay, but if you ever change your mind-just tell me. And by the way I thought you lived here with your parents… why are there just two bedrooms?”

“John. Obviously my insufferable brother and I had to chare a room until our parents died. Since then Mycroft slept in their old room.”

“Oh.”

Then he helped Sherlock to the bedroom and put him to bed.

“I’m not even tired.”

“But your body needs rest. So try to relax and please call me if anything happens or if you need any help.”

“It’s almost morning, John! It’s four am! How can you expect me to sleep now?”

“You were dead a few hours ago. You should get a bit rest. Besides, I’m afraid I’m dead tired- no pun intended. So please try to get some sleep alright?”

Sherlock smiled first but then frowned.

“I don’t want to just lie here and stare at the ceiling. And what if everything fails and I die again? I have too little data to know what will happen. I can’t just rest. My brain wouldn’t allow it.”

John sighed and thought about it.

“Fine, would it help if I stayed here?”

“Here?”

“Yes, I could also sleep in that bed. It’s big enough. Look, it was only an offer.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened and for a while he didn’t answer at all so that John slightly considered just going to his room but then he spoke.

“Okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Sherlock nodded.

“Alright… I’m just going to change into my sleeping clothes. I’ll be right back.”

John went away only to return a few minutes later.

He climbed wordlessly into the bed and soon the only sound to be heard was the even breathing of him.

_I’m lying in bed with John. That’s…something I didn’t expect. Now I definitely can’t sleep. I never slept with anyone in one bed. What if I’m someone who clings at everything during sleep? Oh God, I can only imagine what could happen if I press myself against him._

_Yes, what my body thinks of him is clear since the occasion earlier._

_It’s actually really interesting. My body hadn’t reacted this way since I was like sixteen… since then I have my body completely under control and even if I hadn’t –there had never been anyone that I found attractive in any way._

_But this today was remarkable … he didn’t even do anything sexual. What might happen if he did something sexual?_

_Okay… I can’t let me think about that now. Really bad timing. Stop it!_

_Okay… let’s recapitulate by now we can only be sure that my libido is working fine … but what is with everything else? I should try to drink something… and see if I have to go to the toilet._

_Yes! I need to do some experiments. As soon as John is awake… I’ll start._

* * *

 

Sherlock woke up from a few clashing sounds. He groaned as he realized that he had slept for six hours. 

Hearing that sound John walked into the room.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you. I just tripped and let my stuff fall.  Anyway I got what I found. I looked for something to check you.”

“Check me?”

“Yes, I mean the important tests I can only make on Monday like blood tests and an ECG. But I have my stethoscope and my blood pressure monitor.”

Sherlock actually smiled at that.

“That’s excellent. I also already thought about some tests I could do.”

 “You won’t do any tests without my surveillance.”

“But-“

“No. I’m the doctor of us.”

Sherlock frowned but kept quiet and so John grinned triumphal.

He took the few missing steps to the bed.

“So… shall we start?”

Sherlock nodded.

“You need to take your t-shirt off. Do you feel any better or do you need my help?” 

With a determined look on his face Sherlock started taking his t-shirt off. 

It took a while but he managed it. 

He was quite proud of himself and judging the look on John’s face he was just relieved. 

John started listening to Sherlock’s chest. 

He tried really hard to stay professional no matter what although seeing Sherlock topless again after such a short time was really something. 

John was glad that only he could hear the heartbeat of the other man which was steady and normal to his relief.

 If it was reverted it would be terrible embarrassing because he felt his own pulse quicken being this close to Sherlock.

“Everything sounds fine.”

Then he attached the machine and measured his blood pressure which was also completely normal.

“Great. Everything seems to be alright. Now… tell me what tests did you have in mind?”

“It’s very important to find out if my organs work properly to I think I should drink and eat something.”

John frowned.

“Um… okay here’re the terms. You drink something and then you’ll wait if you have to go to the toilet. And then if this happens you can try to eat something. Deal?”

Sherlock looked like he was about to sulk but he nodded.

“Then help me downstairs so that I can start.”

John who was standing now crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows.

Sherlock groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Please John? Would you please be that nice and help me?”

John laughed but went to help him. This time they didn’t need that much time to manage the stairs.

When they reached the kitchen John started making tea while Sherlock sit on the kitchen table.

“I thought about the clothes situation.”

Carrying the cups to the table and sitting down, John smiled.

“Oh yes?”

“Yes, and I think I found the best solution. When I was alive- the first time- I always wore suits. They were of course tailored but if I went to my tailor he would inform Mycroft immediately and I don’t want that. So… I’ll write down my measurements for you and you’ll go with them to him and get me some clothes.”

John laughed and nearly choked on his tea in the progress.

 “Um… are you really that used to ordering people around?”

“No, I’m just used to ordering you around.”

Sherlock grinned while taking a sip of his tea.  

The taste of it hit him without warning.  

It was the first time that he could taste something and this was remarkable. He couldn’t stop a moan.

Now John definitely did choke on his tea. He was coughing wildly while Sherlock began to drink the rest of his cup greedily.

Sherlock held his now empty cup in John’s direction.

“Please, more.”

John who hadn’t recovered yet just snapped the cup and filled it with tea.

When he sat down he just watched Sherlock who was blowing impatiently at the hot fluid until he could drink it.

After a few moments he cleared his throat.

“So… what else do you want me to buy? Shirts? Shoes? Pants? Socks? “

“Obviously. And a silk dressing gown - this is important! But please only buy normal colours, like blue and purple and white.”

“What are you talking about? There are no such things as normal colours. That’s completely illogical.” 

Sherlock sipped happily at his tea while closing his eyes.

“Logic lies in the eyes of the beholder, John.”

John laughed and shook his head while he shot Sherlock, who was grinning while drinking, a fond look.

Later he wrote down everything he needed to know and went to get everything for Sherlock.

Meanwhile Sherlock had to go to the toilet and he thought he had never been happier about that.  

He also tried to move everything and it went easier than before.  

He also was proud of himself that he had managed to climb the stairs without help although he was exhausted and shaking everything he did it.

He also tried to make tea but somehow his tea didn’t taste that well as John’s had which was odd to him but he decided to wait for him until he would drink more of it. 

After one hour suddenly the doorbell rang. Sherlock considered not going but the ringing didn’t stop and so he forced himself to the door.

When he opened it there was standing Mrs Hudson who was just looking for something in her purse.

“Oh, John darling. You never got in touch with me after the other day and you were rushing home that fast that I was worried. So I thought I should come and look if everything is fine. I also found some more photos of Sherlock if you want to-“

Her eyes wandered up and she stared at said man which she had known since he was a boy.

She had seen his dead body; she had spoken at his funeral. She met the unusual coloured eyes and then she heard his distinctive voice.

“Mrs Hudson.”

And then she passed out.

 


	10. bonding experiences

“What did you do?!” 

“Nothing! She just passed out here, I swear! And then I called you!”

John groaned and put the bags on the floor so he could kneel next to the still unconscious woman.

He felt her pulse and breathed out feeling relieved.

“Thank God, she’s fine.”

Then he turned his head to look at Sherlock and giving him a pointed look.

“Now explain me why she’s laying in front of our stairs.”

“Because I was obviously too weak to carry her farther and so I just carried her far enough for closing the door. And I put a pillow under her head, so she’s comfortable. You could at least give me credit for that.”

John shot him an unbelieving look and carried Mrs Hudson carefully onto the couch.

“I’ll get her some water… please watch her.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes but nodded and sat down next to her.

After a while she began to wake up. John grabbed her hand immediately.

“Mrs Hudson? Can you hear me? I’m so sorry.”

She opened her eyes and after her gaze found Sherlock she just stared at him.

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock nodded.

 “Yes, it’s me.”

“You were dead. I saw your body. Did you fake your death? Did you have problems?”

“No… I didn’t fake my death. I was really dead. I just came back yesterday.”

The woman seemed speechless and so John offered her the glass of water which she willingly accepted.

After a few quiet minutes she looked at them both and demanded an explanation which John gave her. He told her everything that had happened.

 She stayed silent during John’s talk and afterwards she just nodded.

“You know… I have always believed that something supernatural was in this house. I mean no one wanted to live here for long. And then you John came to me and asked me all this questions and this just confirmed it.”

Mrs Hudson grabbed both of Sherlock’s hands and looked at him with teary eyes.

“Oh, Sherlock. I’m so happy that you’re back alive. How do you feel?”

“I’m okay. My muscles and my skin aren’t that well but otherwise everything is fine.”

John raised his eyebrows.

 “What does that mean? Did you have to go to the toilet?”

Sherlock smiled.

“Yes, indeed. And imagine, I made it up the stairs all by myself. And I put the t-shirt back on.”

John smiled back.

“I’m proud of you. And these are genuinely good news! Now we can try food. High-five!”

He raised a hand and offered it to Sherlock who just looked at it unbelieving.

“I don’t high-five.”

“Come on, it’s muscle training for your arm.”

John wiggled with his eyebrows and Sherlock snorted and clapped his hand against John’s.  

Mrs Hudson eyes now darted between these two who just looked at each other. 

She had never seen Sherlock this relaxed or happy. 

Then Sherlock cleared his throat.

 “So… what did you bring me?”

“Ah… right. I brought you some clothes but your suits will take a few days so you have to live with that until then.”

He grabbed the bags and put it on Sherlock’s lap who looked through it immediately. 

“Really, John? You bought me jeans? I don’t wear jeans.”

“It’s either that, walking in pyjama bottoms or naked. Your choice.”

“I choose to go naked, thanks.”

John laughed nervously and distracted himself from that image in his head with making tea.

While preparing it he heard a delighted sound from Sherlock.

“Oh, you brought the perfect dressing gown! Thank you.”

 He brought the tea back, smiling.

“You’re welcome.”

When Sherlock saw the tea he grabbed it hurriedly.

“Oh, thank God, you made tea. You know I also tried making it while you were gone but I just didn’t get the taste how you make it and so I didn’t like it.”

“Oh, I think that was a compliment for my tea. Thank you. But wait…it’s now my job to make you tea all the time right?”

Sherlock just smiled and drank his tea happily.

Then Mrs Hudson spoke.

“Oh, Sherlock darling, does Mycroft know? Or when will you tell him?”

Sherlock tensed and John’s curiosity grew because he also wondered that.  

“Um… no he doesn’t know yet and I don’t intend to tell him. But I guess that he just visits my grave on my birthday… which will be next week and then he’ll figure it out by himself. Until then… I’ll live in peace.” 

For a moment she looked thoughtful but then she nodded and padded his knee. 

“Alright. I think it’s time for me to leave. I’ll visit again to look after you- both of you, alright?”

They both nodded and John apologized once more and then she was gone.

John sighed and sat down next to Sherlock.

“So… food? Do you want some toast?”

Sherlock wrinkled his nose but nodded.

John made it and he took a few bits of it.

“How do you feel in general?” 

“Better. My skin barely hurts anymore and my muscles are…on their way to become normal again.”

“That’s really good. I’m glad. Do you want to change your clothes?”

“John, I already told you that I prefer nakedness.”

John frowned and Sherlock laughed.

“Git.”

“It’s not my fault that you believe me anything. Um… yes, I think I’m going to grab the least gruesome ones.”

John smacked Sherlock’s head.

They both looked at each other for a moment and then started to laugh.  

When they sobered Sherlock stood up and grabbed one bag and went behind a corner to change.

 He didn’t have the strength to manage the stairs again after such a short time. 

He settled for black jeans, dark pants and a dark blue shirt.

When Sherlock came back to the living room, John held his breath.

Mouth going dry he just stared at him.

“Why are you staring at me? I know it doesn’t look that well like a suit would but-“

“You look incredibly well. In fact it’s… just wow. Breath-taking.”  

Sherlock just gaped at John wide-eyed and just now realized the obvious signs of arousal on John. 

The blonde man’s pupils were full blown and Sherlock felt his face getting warm.  

John noticed that Sherlock was blushing.

 He didn’t understand how someone that arrogant in other areas could be that shy in such things.  

He thought it was the most adorable thing he had ever seen and smiled at him.

Just when he wanted to say something the doorbell rang.

They both looked at each other questioningly.  

Then John stood up gesturing to Sherlock to wait in the living room and opened the door.

There was Lestrade, holding a few files.

“Hi, John. I wondered if Sherlock could look at these. We really stuck at them and I thought that he’s maybe bored and so…”

John laughed.

“Hello, Greg. Please come in, I’m sure that he would be happy to help you.”

He gestured him to go into the living room while he was following him grinning.

John heard the drop of the files which landed on the floor without needing to see the source. 

Lestrade just stared at Sherlock who was grinning.

 “You wear something different than usual. How is that possible?”

Sherlock shrugged.

“I’m human again.”

“Bollocks.”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and grabbed Lestrade’s shoulder who flinched in reaction. 

“Oh my God. How? I mean what in the heavens happened?!”

Sherlock smiled.

“John found a spell and he did it. It worked. I’m back since yesterday. The end. Now can I look into these cases?”

Lestrade nodded numbly and just looked at John with a lost gaze on his eyes.

John laughed and led him into the kitchen where he gave him a cup of tea and explained what had happened.

“Bloody hell, John. You know that digging up a body is a crime right?”

“Yes, I know but it was worth it. And… are you going to put charges on me?”

Lestrade frowned for a moment but then shook his head.

Then they both watched Sherlock who was reading the files.

 “So… do you think that he could work with you again?”

“Um… I guess. I mean he worked before with the police so I think it shouldn’t be a problem to get him in again. If… that’s what he wants.”

“Let’s ask him.”

 They went to the living room and stood in front of Sherlock who was sitting on the couch surrounded by the files.

“Sherlock, would you like to work again? I mean helping me? Visiting crime scenes? “

Head snapping up, Sherlock regarded Lestrade with glinting eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something but then his gaze wandered to John and he shot it again.

“What’s with John?”

“What do you mean?”

“Can he also work with you?”

John felt he needed to intercept.

“Wait, that’s not necessary, it would be okay if-“

“I would only help you if John was also allowed to come.”

Lestrade looked at John who shrugged and put his hands to his face, and then he sighed. 

“Alright. I’m going to see what I can do. I’ll let you know when I know the answer. Okay, I should go. It’s good that you’re alive, Sherlock. Bye, guys.”

When the door closed behind Lestrade, John sighed.

“That really wasn’t necessary, Sherlock. You know I have a job.” 

Sherlock just looked into the files and didn’t even bother to look at John.

“I know that. But I want you with me. Is that so hard to believe?”

John was stunned. He just stared at Sherlock for a moment until his head snapped up and he lifted one questioning eyebrow.

“Um… I guess not. Okay… um… is there something else you want to do?”

Sherlock considered everything before he answered smiling.

“I want to breathe London.”

“Do you think you can walk that long?”

“We don’t have to walk far. Just get a cab and let’s walk in the city a few steps.”

Shooting him a worried look, John saw the longing in the other man’s eyes and so he gave in.

He helped Sherlock into a cab and they drove to the inner city. 

John could see Sherlock’s face in the window.

 He looked at everything outside with such a fascinated gaze that the older one couldn’t help but smile.

 They walked a bit and made a bit window shopping.

At one shop Sherlock suddenly didn’t want to walk away. 

He stared at a coat that was in the window. 

It was long and dark blue.

 “You really want that, right?”

Sherlock nodded.

“Okay… actually that’s way too expensive for me but… okay. I’ll buy it. See it as an early birthday present alright?”

With wide eyes, Sherlock nodded and smiled incredibly wide.

 “Thank you, John.”

They both went inside and Sherlock got the coat and a matching scarf. 

He put both on immediately and John had to admit that he looked dashing.

 The coat was dramatic and the collar let Sherlock look even more mysterious. 

John thought it matched his personality perfectly.

After that they got a cab and drove home.

John made dinner of which Sherlock even ate a bit and then it was time to go to bed which brought John an awkward thought.

“Um…where do you want me to sleep?” 

Sherlock regarded the other man and saw how uncomfortable he felt but at the same time he seemed to blush a bit. 

That was confusing for Sherlock because he thought that John didn’t want to sleep in the bed again but if he didn’t want that, why did he even ask. 

“Where you want, John. It’s perfectly fine with me if you’re sleeping in the same bed as I do.”

With that he let John the decision.

 He didn’t want to force him doing something that made him feel uncomfortable. 

There were a few moments of silence. 

Then John cleared his throat, scratching his neck.

“Um…well okay.”

After that John woke upstairs to use the bathroom and change for bed.

 Sherlock was still sitting at the kitchen table, totally confused. 

He didn’t know what this answer meant and so he also went upstairs and changed into his pyjamas which went almost without any pain and then he laid down under the covers. 

John was still in the bathroom but after a few minutes he could hear the bathroom door opening and closing.

Sherlock held his breath.

 Then there were steps nearing the bedroom.

 John came in and lay down next to him. 

Letting go his breath he felt himself relaxing.

He could almost hear the smile in his voice when John spoke.

 “Goodnight, Sherlock.”

“Goodnight, John.”

* * *

 

They spent Sunday relaxing. John read a bit and Sherlock tried to train his muscles.

 On Monday John took Sherlock with him to work to make the blood test and the ECG.

With the results in his hands John went to Sherlock who was still sitting in John’s office. 

“So… everything seems to be fine. That’s great.”

Sherlock nodded but had his fingers under his chin and frowned.

“John, please tell me what my blood type is.”

John looked through the file.

 “Um…it’s B negative. Why?”

Sherlock was jumped up from his chair with a glint in his eyes.

“Ha! I thought so much. This is also your blood type right? Before I died I had A positive.”

Speechless John stared at Sherlock.

“So…you changed your blood type? Or better the ritual changed it?”

Pacing and nodding Sherlock answered.

“Yes and it makes absolutely sense. I’m depending on you and your life and you gave your blood as a sacrifice during the ritual… so it’s not really surprising. I suspected that much but it was nice to have it confirmed.”

* * *

 

The next few days went by pretty fast. Lestrade called on Wednesday that they could work with him and so they went to the crime scene.

By then Sherlock had his beloved suits and John had to admit that he looked obscenely well in his coat and his suits. 

Anderson and Sally weren’t that happy to see him alive again but Molly cried many happy tears and actually tried to hug Sherlock who shunned her.

Everything worked really fine and Sherlock almost felt like he got everything he had wanted but something important bothered him. 

On Friday they worked on a case all day and Sherlock solved it as usual.

When they got home Sherlock sat down in his chair, hands folded under his chin and went to his mind palace.

 On that evening, he finally snapped.

John was just enjoying himself, leaning at the kitchen counter and sipping at his tea when Sherlock suddenly yelled at him from John’s chair in the living room while glaring at him.

“What the hell is it John?”

John spilled his tea in shock and almost choked on it.

“What?”

“Why did you stop flirting with me?”

John was gaping at him but Sherlock didn’t even pause to give him a chance to answer.

“Is it the age gap? Ten years isn’t that much and technically it’s just nine years now. Or is it because I’m no longer mysterious enough? I mean surprise, surprise I’m an actual human being! Or is it because you’ve met someone else? No, wait this isn’t it, I would have noticed that. What is your problem? Is it because I’m that inexperienced compared to you? I apologize for not sleeping with anyone who was interested in me! I mean we even sleep in the same bed and I admit that I don’t really have any experience in the friendship-area but even I know that this isn’t perfectly normal behaviour of two friends when there are other beds available. So what is your problem?!”

John took a few calming breaths and then he answered.

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t sleep with everyone who was interested. I’m not a whore or whatever you think of me. I only slept with people ~~with~~ that I was in a relationship with. I’m a good guy okay? And then the answer to your question is that you never flirted back. I mean not clearly and so I didn’t want to freak you out and stopped.”

Sherlock stood up still glaring at John and stepped closer.

“You want me to flirt? Fine. Here I’m holding eye contact with you. This is flirting.”

Then he came impossibly close so that John could almost feel his body heat.

“Now I’m invading your personal space. That is flirting.”

Sherlock placed his hand on John’s left arm and he almost whispered the next bit.

“Now I’m touching you. That’s flirting.” 

John could hear his own heartbeat being this near to Sherlock.  

They breathed the same air.

Fixating Sherlock’s parted lips with his eyes; John lifted his free hand and put it on Sherlock’s left cheek.

He let his thumb wander over the sharp cheekbone.

 Sherlock’s voice dropped a few octaves when he said next.

 “I’m going to kiss you. That’ll be flirting.”

Then he leaned in and their lips met.

John hummed approvingly and after a while he put his hand from Sherlock’s cheek into his hair.

Finally he could touch those incredible curls and he grabbed them hard which made Sherlock gasp in response.

John took immediately advantage of that and gently made the kiss into an open-mouthed one.

Soon he sucked at Sherlock’s bottom lip and let his tongue explore.

The other man moaned in response and followed suit. He may have been inexperienced but no one could assert that he wasn’t a quick learner.

Sherlock copied John’s movement for a while but finally they had to break it to breathe.

 They leaned their foreheads together panting.

“So… that was my first kiss.”

“Mhm-mhm.”

“I think it was amazing, but I don’t have any data for comparison. So what do you think?”

John opened his eyes and looked into Sherlock’s which were full with actual fear.

“It was definitely the best kiss of my life.”

Sherlock searched in John’s face for signs that would show if he was lying but he found nothing.

He smiled and John returned it and turned his hand which was still caught under Sherlock’s to entwine their fingers.

 Then he pulled at Sherlock.

“Let’s go to bed.”

Sherlock froze and John noticed and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Just to sleep.”

Forcing himself to relax, he nodded and let John pull him upstairs.

After changing into their sleeping clothes they were lying in bed next to each other on their backs like every night but this time there was a tension of unspoken emotions that was almost tangible.

 “John?” 

“Yes?”

“As I said before I don’t have any experience so it is possible that I misread some things and I’m perfectly aware that some people see kissing as something to do for fun and as nothing serious. So…I don’t know what to expect. Did this mean something?”

John grabbed Sherlock’s left hand with his right one in the middle of them.  

“Listen. It meant everything for me and my intentions with you are serious.”

“What does that mean? Are you saying that we’re a couple now?”

“If that’s what you want then yes. I don’t want to rush you.”

Sherlock freed his left hand only to replace it with his right one while turning on his side, looking at John.

“It was ever only you, John. And it probably ever will be you.”

John had to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat and freed his hand to lift his arm.

It was an offer to Sherlock to come closer and he took it.

He placed his head on John’s chest and his right hand over his heart while John held him close.

John buried his nose in the dark curls of his boyfriend and kissed his temple.

“Good night, Sherlock.”

Sherlock pressed himself impossibly closer.

“Good night, John.”

 


	11. Finally living

Sherlock woke up with a weird feeling. 

He was pressed against another person.

It took him longer to realize what had happened. 

Suddenly everything rushed through his mind.

He had kissed John. 

They had kissed each other and now he was cuddled against John.

He dared to slowly open his eyes. 

There was John, still asleep but still holding Sherlock with his arm.

John looked happy in his sleep, it seemed like he had no nightmare this night.

 It almost seemed like he was smiling.

Their legs were also totally entwined and Sherlock felt like he was still sleeping.

This couldn’t be true. Such things happen to other people- to normal people but not to him.

But he could remember it clearly. They seemed to be a couple now- a real couple.

Sherlock felt almost giddy thinking about that.  

He never expected to have something like that somewhere along the line. 

With his past experiences with relationships to other humans, he always thought that they were right. He wasn’t normal- he had never been like other kids or teenagers or later even adults.

Sherlock never fitted somewhere in.

 That’s the reason why he always thought that he would be doomed to be alone forever and he didn’t really care about that for most of the time. 

He had accepted his destiny.

But then he had met John.

 Wonderful, completely perfect John-he still couldn’t believe it and now he even had gotten his first kiss from him.

Suddenly John began to move in his sleep and Sherlock knew that he was beginning to wake up.

His pulse rate sped dangerously up in a mixture of anticipation and panic.

Sherlock didn’t know what to do.

 He didn’t know if he should kiss him or say something to him.

He also had completely no idea about what John expected from him.

Lost in his own head he didn’t notice that John had opened his eyes and was watching him with a fond smile.

“Good morning and happy birthday.”

With that he placed a kiss in Sherlock’s wild curls and said man had a serious blackout and didn’t react at all which made – to Sherlock’s irritation- John laugh.

“Why are you looking this panicked? Have you regretted what happened or have you changed your mind?”

John was frowning now and when Sherlock still didn’t answered he started to withdraw his arm under Sherlock which yanked him out of his rigour.

“What? No, no, no, no!”

He pressed himself at John and embraced him like a crazy octopus in fear he could leave him.

John chuckled and began to gently caress Sherlock’s scalp through his hair which made him almost purr in reaction.

“Alright, then. So…boyfriend, right? Today is your day. What do you want to do?”

Sherlock beamed at him.

“Boyfriend.”

“Yes.” 

“I like the sound of that. I don’t want anything to do. I don’t want this moment to end.”

“We have a million moments like that ahead of us. But yes… I know what you mean. It’s a perfect morning.”

With that Sherlock smiled and snuggled himself contently against his partner until John’s stomach rumbled pretty loudly.

They both laughed and John sighed.

“I guess my stomach disagrees with us. So…I think I have to go and make breakfast. But don’t worry. You don’t have to leave this bed. I’ll bring everything upstairs.”

With that he stood up and looked almost longingly at the slim figure lying in the bed.

Sherlock caught that gaze and his pulse sped up again.

Then John leant forward and gave Sherlock a quick but passionate kiss.

“See you in a minute.”

 With that he left the room and Sherlock pressed his face into a pillow and smiled like a lunitac.

John was walking down the stairs and rubbing his eyes while doing that.

When he reached the kitchen he started to prepare the tea and breakfast while standing with his back to the living room.

“Good morning, Doctor Watson.”

The cup John had been holding landed on the floor crashing while he spun around.

There in the living room was a man standing with an umbrella in his hand which looked ridiculous to John.

After a few seconds John restored his senses and he stood straight like the soldier he once had been.

“Who are you and how did you get into my house?”

“Oh, how impolite of me not to introduce myself. I’m Mycroft Holmes and this was once my house so it isn’t farfetched that I still have a key for it. But now to the reason why I’m here. I tried to visit my brother’s grave only to find it empty. I have to admit that I was indeed shocked by that and so I watched all of the material of the security cameras.”

John was frozen and had no idea what to say to that so he remained silent.

 “So I know very well what had happened and now I’m here now to talk to my newly alive brother. By the way, Sherlock you can come out now. It’s pathetic that you think that I wouldn’t notice you lingering on the stairs.”

On that cue Sherlock did indeed come to the kitchen. He placed himself next to John while glaring at his brother.

“So I’m here now. What is it you want to talk with me about?”

Mycroft sniffed and raised his eyebrows looking at John which made Sherlock narrowing his eyes.

“John will stay.”

“Very well brother. So… I had an extremely interesting conversation with a certain Miss Adler. She told me everything about this so called ritual Dr Watson performed.”

Sherlock seemed impatient and annoyed at the way his brother was talking while John was just curious on what Mycroft was getting.

“What is your point? Or are you just here to annoy me?”

“Don’t be that childish, dear brother. But this will lead me to my mean concern. Did you even think anything of all this through? You are depending on Dr Watson. If he dies you die too.”

Sherlock crossed his arms.

“Of course I know that.”

“And why is he still here then?”

“What is that supposed to mean, Mycroft?”

“Of course we have to make sure that he’ll have a secure and healthy life and to guarantee that we have to put him under constant custody.”

John was gaping at Mycroft open mouthed but Sherlock was moving very fast.

He suddenly stood in front of John, shielding him from his brother.

“In no way I’ll let you get him and lock him up in some of your institutions!” 

The older brother shot him now a disapproving look.

“Oh I see, you have some attachment to him. You’ll get over it, I’m sure of that. You can always just delete him from your mind palace.”

Now Sherlock was taking steps towards his brother while speaking and glaring dangerously at him.

“I’ll never delete anything of John! Now go!” 

Mycroft hadn’t even flinched at his brother’s yelling and now he sighed disappointed.

“Sherlock. You have no experience in such things and I believe that you’re quite naïve if you believe that he’ll stay with you forever. He’ll leave you eventually and then you’ll regret that you have no control of his whereabouts anymore.”

Sherlock was now trembling with anger and a bit of fear which he tried to ignore.

“The only reason why I even tried this ritual and wanted to be here again was John. So… I see no point of me being alive if he is dead so I see no problem there.”  

“Oh, Sherlock. You don’t even believe it yourself do you?”

John had been beaming at Sherlock because of what he had said but now his attention snapped back to Mycroft and he had simply enough of all that. He slammed his fist onto the kitchen counter which made both brothers look at him.

“Oh, have I your attention now? Good. Since you are already talking about me and my intentions the whole time let me have a word and make it clear.

 I won’t let you lock me up somewhere because I like it here and enjoy my life as a free man way too much so no thank you for that.

 In terms of me leaving Sherlock… I have no intentions to leave him. I mean ever. I was never happier than I’m right now and that’s thanks to him.

It was also…interesting to meet you but if you don’t want to ruin your brother’s birthday any further I would suggest you to leave.”

John had expected the man to protest but he did no such thing. He nodded and even smiled slightly.

“Of course. My apologies for disturbing you. It was a pleasure to meet you, Dr Watson and Sherlock?”

Sherlock just looked expectantly as Mycroft turned to him.

“Happy birthday. And don’t worry I’ll settle all the paperwork concerning your death. Oh and I let your stuff be delivered tomorrow.”

With that Mycroft shot one meaningful look at Sherlock who nodded in return and then he was gone.

John just stood there bewildered.

“What the hell was that?!” 

Sherlock sighed.

 “That was my brother’s way to make sure that I’m alright and that your intentions are good.”

John was perplexed.

“You mean this was some sort of test?! That’s crazy.”

“Welcome to my world, John. Oh and you passed it by the way. But please let us talk about something different than my insufferable brother.” 

With that he circled John until he could hug him from behind.

John returned it and grabbed Sherlock’s hands that were on his chest. He felt Sherlock’s breathing on his hair and he loved it- he loved being able to feel him and every proof of his aliveness.

“So… okay were where we?”

He could feel Sherlock’s smile.

“You wanted to make us breakfast but I think you should first remove the fragments of the cup that you dropped.”

John rolled his eyes and sighed but did as he was told. Then he prepared their breakfast and put it on a tray and carried it upstairs.  

Sherlock followed him smiling and let himself fall on the bed and they began to eat.  After a while of silence something occurred to John.

“Did you mean it?”

“What?”

“I mean what you said to your brother. Did you mean it that I’m the main reason you wanted to be alive again?”

Sherlock licked his fingers clean and nodded.

“Yes, I mean I always wished that I could touch you somehow which is really incredible because I had never had the desire to do something like that.”

John smiled.

“I understand that. I had the same wishes. I mean you know that I had a special dream about you a while ago.”

Sherlock blushed but nodded and John grinned at that sight.

“But I need you to know that I’m not only attracted to you, okay? I mean Sherlock- that is bloody obvious. But I have truly feelings for you and that’s the reason why I would never leave you except you wish me to.”

The other man was beaming at him.

Then John put the tray away and crawled to Sherlock whom he after that pulled in his arms.

* * *

 

The next day Lestrade called them and they headed to the crime scene.

There lying on the floor was an elderly woman. Her house was really big and it was clear that she was wealthy. 

Sherlock lay right next to her on his stomach and examined everything.

Meanwhile John joined Lestrade who shook his head and John laughed fondly watching Sherlock sniffing at everything.

Suddenly the detective sprung onto his feet.

“He’s still here.”

He had Lestrade’s complete attention.

“Who?”

“The killer-obviously.”

Sherlock was now looking around the room and John was on alert immediately because at the moment it was only the three of them in the house.

“John. Go upstairs. I will go downstairs.”

“Are you mad? No. You’re unarmed.”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in Lestrade’s direction who frowned and then thankfully acted like he had heard nothing.

“Don’t worry- I can fight. Now go.”

John frowned for a moment but then nodded. Then they parted ways.

The detective went downstairs only to find an extremely ugly room which had been apparently mostly used for a collection of ancient dolls.

Sherlock couldn’t find anything of interest and was just in the process of judging the taste of the woman when he heard a loud rumble.

Then he heard yelling voices and finally a shot.

He ran up the stairs only to see John fighting with the killer. They were both bleeding and it was obvious that they both had fallen down the stairs.  

It appeared that the killer had hit John with something hard on his head because there was a laceration which coloured his hair.

Lestrade was aiming at them with his gun but they moved too fast to make sure to hit the right one.

So it was up to Sherlock who loosened his belt and ran to them only to use his belt as a loop.

He used his whole body weight and finally the killer lost his consciousness and landed on Sherlock who fell with him on top on his back.  

The killer was a heavy man and so Sherlock gasped desperately for air but only a few moments later John was there and pulled the man off from him. 

John was on an instant checking Sherlock’s vitals and looking for other damage.

“Is everything alright? Are you hurt?”

Sherlock snorted.

“You are the one who fell down the stairs and you’re asking me if I’m hurt?”

Slightly blushing John laughed a bit.

“Um… I guess. Now let me help you up.”

Sherlock took his hands and let his boyfriend pull him on his feet.

Then it was his turn to check the injuries and he looked at everything closely and put one hand to John’s face while doing that.

“You’re injured. I think you need stitches.”

John leaned into the touch and smiled fondly.

“I’m a doctor you know. And thank you by the way, for saving my life.”

Sherlock smiled back.

“You’re very welcome.”

Then John nudged him and laughed.

“Admit it; you only did it to save your life.”

Sherlock was frowning now and John immediately regretted his joke.

He cupped Sherlock’s face with both of his hands and forced him to look at him.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I know that this isn’t true. I was just a lame attempt of being funny. Please forgive me?”

Sherlock was still frowning but seemed perplexed.

“I know it was just a joke. You’re not that cruel to say and mean such things. But I need you to know that I did that because I love you.”

John’s eyes widened and he froze. In the background he could vaguely see an open mouthed Lestrade who seemed uncomfortable being there.

He realized he must have been silent longer than intended because Sherlock was now frowning even harder and looking very young.

“I did it wrong, didn’t I? I screwed up.”

The detective looked to the ground and let his shoulders drop.

John knew that he was the one who screwed up.

“No, you didn’t. I was just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t expect you to say it so soon but nothing more.” 

“But why shouldn’t I say it when it’s true?”

The older man laughed at that logic.

“Because it can scare the other one away. I mean in the worst case.” 

Sherlock’s eyes widened and John didn’t let him speak.

“But luckily I feel the same so you have no reason to worry.”

The other man narrowed his eyes at that.

“Do you just say that because you don’t want to hurt my feelings or are you honest?”

“I can ensure you that I’m completely honest but as I said before I don’t want to rush anything with you, so I didn’t plan on telling you this right away.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to object again but John pulled him into a kiss.

He tried to put all of his feelings, all of that unbelievable love for this madman in that kiss and it seemed to work because after a few seconds Sherlock was practically clinging at him with no intention to ever end the kiss. 

John would have nothing against it but suddenly there was an uncomfortable sounding harrumphing coming from Lestrade.

They reluctantly let go of each other first sighing and then chuckling. Then John felt the need to finally say it.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Lestrade joined them.

“You are the only one who could seriously let a crime scene appear like a romantic scene from a movie.”

They both laughed and John clapped a hand of the DI’s shoulder.

“Oh, you’re just jealous, Greg.”

Greg grinned and mock whispered to him the next.

“John, are you aware that only a few metres away of us is lying a dead body?”

John chuckled but Sherlock looked seriously confused.  

“Who’s Greg?”

John had to laugh even harder at this but sobered pretty quickly.

“That’s his first name.”

“Oh, really? That doesn’t sound like a real name to me.” 

Now Lestrade had the need to interfere.

“Oh but Sherlock is, right?”

John put himself between them before Sherlock could deduce something embarrassing about Greg and declare it out loud.  

After that they only talked about the murder and the murderer got arrested.

* * *

 

It was only two months later when John got a call from Sherlock while being at work.

This alarmed him immensely because usually he only got tons of texts from him so he hurried to a quiet corner and answered it.

“Sherlock? What is it? Are you okay?” 

“Yes, of course. I just wanted to let you know that I finished my research.”

“What does that mean?”

“John, this means obviously that I’m now ready.”

“Ready? Ready for what?”

“Don’t be an idiot. I’m talking about sex.”

John let the files that he had been carrying fall and almost dropped his phone too.

When he finally picked them up again he took a deep breath.

“Are you sure? Or wait we’ll talk about this when I’m home okay?”

“Okay.”

With that they ended the call and John got back to work.

The remaining hours seemed to be in slow motion. 

When it was finally time to go home he hurried home.

There he found Sherlock standing in the living room playing his violin. 

His eyes were closed and John admired the look for a moment.

Then Sherlock stopped and looked at him.

For a while they just stood there both caught in each other’s sight.

Taking the few steps left separating him Sherlock was suddenly in front of him and took his hand.

John let him lead him upstairs in Sherlock’s old bedroom which they changed a bit and made it into theirs.

Having arrived there Sherlock started to undress him.

First he gently removed the jacket and let it fall to the ground, and then he grabbed the jumper John was wearing that day and put it over his head.

John was now just standing there in a white t-shirt which Sherlock also removed quickly. 

Then John’s breath was caught in his throat from the hunger he saw in the other man’s eyes.

He was intended to let Sherlock do whatever he wanted so he stood still while his partner started to caress his chest and shoulders with his hands.

Only when he added his mouth to it and started to kiss and suck at every place he could find while surrounding him, John couldn’t stand it any longer, threw his head back and moaned while closing his eyes.

Obviously encouraged by this, Sherlock started to open his own shirt. Then he also removed his trousers and started to work at John’s belt.

John could only stare at the beautiful man in front of him while he was opening his belt and trousers which didn’t hide his interest even a bit but John was pleased to see that Sherlock was in the very same state.

When both were only in their pants, John decided to take charge. He started to slowly kiss his partner without any hurry.

He savoured the taste of him although he lost count of how many times he had already tasted it.

It was always as incredible as it was the first time.

 This time John gently urged Sherlock towards the bed until his knees met it and they both fell.

John was on top of Sherlock and they were both giggling for a moment.

Then John locked his eyes with his partner’s.

“Are you really sure? I mean we can stop any time.”

“John. I’m sure. I want it. I want you.  More precisely I want you inside me.”

John had to suppress a moan at hearing such words from him but he had to make sure.

“Really?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Really, John. Now would you please?”

With that he opened the drawer of the bedside table and grabbed something which he then put in John’s hand.

He looked down to see that it was lube.

“No condom?”

“No, I’m obviously clean and so are you.”

John raised his eyebrows.

“You had no sex in ages and you would have never used your blood for the ritual if there had been even the slightest chance of you being infected.”

John couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re brilliant.”

Sherlock joined him and then he kissed John.

The kiss turned passionately fast and John slowly removed first Sherlock’s pants and then his own.

It was the second time that he had the fortune to see Sherlock’s erect member but for him it was the first time he had seen John like this.

Sherlock let his heated gaze sweep over John’s whole body and John felt like never before, having all the attention on his.

He was certain it was the most intimate experience he  had ever had and they hadn’t even started properly but he didn’t want to wait any longer and so he put some of the lube on his hand to warm it.

Then he leaned forward and started kissing Sherlock while slowly entering his hole with one finger.

 Sherlock gasped and cramped a bit but when John looked at him he gave him a nod and so John massaged his hole further and used his knowledge until Sherlock was gasping for a completely different reason. 

Soon Sherlock relaxed so that he even could first add a second one and then a third.

At this Sherlock squinted his eyes and grabbed John’s shoulders hard while taking deep breaths in an attempt to relax himself. 

Meanwhile John wanted to help him and so reached with his left hand between them to stroke Sherlock’s length painfully slowly. 

This made the other man helplessly moan and after a few moments he relaxed completely.

“John, please. Now.”

John didn’t refuse that. 

He placed himself on his knees in front of Sherlock whose usually pale skin was pinkish and covered in sweat, which John thought, was the most attractive thing he had ever seen. It let him look so alive and knowing that he was the reason for it, made his head spin. After a few calming breaths he put some lube on himself and slowly pushed inside.

They both groaned at this but John held still for a while before Sherlock was adjusted to the stretch and gave him the signal to move.

Then he began to thrust carefully into his partner’s tight entrance and now Sherlock was throwing his head back and moaning.

With that he exposed his incredibly long neck to John which he just couldn’t resist and so he leaned forward and began to kiss and suck at it.

At this Sherlock was practically clawing at John’s back which would definitely leave marks but John didn’t mind in the slightest.

John kept a slow pace although he had to pull himself together to do that.

Suddenly Sherlock pulled him down for a messy, uncoordinated kiss which was absolutely perfect for both of them.

After a while John knew that he wouldn’t make it far longer and so he started to stroke Sherlock’s length in the same rhythm as his thrusts.  

Soon John could feel Sherlock’s muscles tighten and then the detective came saying John’s name.

His semen landed all over their chests and bellies and seeing that as well as Sherlock’s lips forming a perfect ‘o’ did it for John.

It only needed two more thrusts and then he was coming inside of his partner as well.

He then collapsed breathless on Sherlock although he supported most of his weight with his arms.

They were both sticky and John made a move to slip out but Sherlock’s stopped him.

“Not yet.”

 He nodded and shoved a few sweaty curls from Sherlock’s forehead and kissed his temple.

After a few minutes he really slipped out and the other man winced at this.

Then he went to the bathroom to get a wet flannel with that he cleaned them carefully.

Grinning like a soppy teenager he crawled back into the bed and lay down on his side watching Sherlock who seemed boneless.

“How are you feeling? I mean it was your first time after all.”

Sherlock turned his head so he was facing him as well smiling. 

“I feel fantastic. What about you?”

“It was definitely the best sex of my life and I had never felt that close to anybody.” 

Now Sherlock was smiling so widely it was almost breaking his face and John smiled back.

“I love you, John.”

John reached out and put his hand on Sherlock’s cheek.

“I love you too, Sherlock.”

Then Sherlock turned to his side and kissed John and lived happily ever after.

* * *

 

  **“Wait what?!”**

**“What is it, Sherlock?”**

**“You can’t possibly end your book this way! It’s about us!”**

**“Why not? It’s the usual ending phrase and I narrated everything that happened.”**

**“Um…exactly! And there’s never something usual with us. This makes it sound like a damn fairy tale!”**

**John was laughing and made a prompting gesture.**

**“Okay well, how would you say it?”**

**Sherlock put his hands on his hips.**

**“I would say…. And until today Sherlock Holmes, the former dead one was living with the love of his life who is now his husband.”**

**John was laughing wholeheartedly.**

**“You sound even more romantic than I do, love.”**

**“But this makes it sound realistic at least. We don’t know if we’ll separate someday.”**

**With that John pulled Sherlock down onto his lap.**

**“It’s been eight years now. So face it: You are stuck with me.”**

**Sherlock put his hand on John’s face while looking at his wedding ring that had never left its place for seven years.**

**“That’s absolutely fine with me.”**

**With that he leaned forward and kissed his husband.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that's it :) I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it ;)


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